


You Asked For It

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-11-17 13:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: This is a separate set of drabbles/prompts of varying length from my Tumblr inbox.  Not related to a number prompt, but what the people have asked for.anonymous asked:Mulder goes away for the weekend so Scully has to take care of his fish and one of them dies and she has to scramble to replace it





	1. Fishsitter

He trusted her. That’s what he said, in those exact words: “I trust you, Scully. The fish know you. They’ll be comfortable with you.”

 

So, here she was, on a Sunday morning, truly considering autopsying a dead goldfish as she stood in Mulder’s bathroom over the toilet because this couldn’t possibly be her fault. She shook the cup in her hand just a little, wondering if maybe the fish was just playing dead, pulling a prank on her. It would be just like one of Mulder’s fish to play that kind of joke on her.

 

“Wake up,” Scully said, giving another shake of the cup. “Come on, wake up. Move those fins.”

 

The fish remained belly up and Scully sighed. She looked at her watch. Mulder’s flight was due in less than two hours from now. She’d taken damn good care of those fish for the last four days, stopping by every evening to feed them and even spending an hour cleaning the aquarium yesterday. She even got them a new little castle to play in.

 

“He trusted me,” Scully told the dead fish, holding the glass up so she could look at it eye-level. “Traitor.”

 

Poised to drop the fish in the toilet, Scully paused and then checked her watch again. She knew from her trek to purchase the little plastic castle that the pet shop by her apartment wasn’t open for another hour. And that wouldn’t leave much time. She took the glass with her and found Mulder’s phone book in his desk drawer. There was no answer at the first four pet supply stores listed in the yellow pages, but she got in touch with someone on the fifth try.

 

“Goldfish,” Scully said, holding the little cup up to the window where the sun was just starting to shine around the faded remains of a taped ‘X’. “Pale yellow, white belly, thin, maybe two inches in length. Do you have one?”

 

“Maybe,” said the salesman. “I guess. We got lots of fish.”

 

“I’ll be right there.”

 

Scully held a short funeral back at the toilet, crossing herself and shutting her eyes as she flushed the fish down. She washed the cup and got in her car. The pet shop was a ten minute drive, next to a drug store. A bell jingled as she entered and the smell of kibble hit her immediately. An elderly man with a green apron appeared out of one of the aisles.

 

“You the lady that called about the fish?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Come on back to the tanks.” He waved her over and she followed him down the narrow aisles to the back of the store where about twenty tanks bubbled in a dark space. He pointed out the goldfish tanks to her and she inspected them closely.

 

“Too orange,” she murmured. “Too fat…too small…”

 

“You got a little one at home lost one of their school?” the man asked.

 

“Something like that. This one!” Scully tried to point out a fish amongst the others that was darting around. It wasn’t easy to pinpoint, or for the old man to catch in his net. He finally gave it to Scully after catching the wrong fish twice and she managed to wrangle the chosen replacement after a few minutes. Half her arm was wet by then and she was pretty sure the rest of the fish were traumatized, but she caught him.

 

“Remember to let him acclimate,” the salesman reminded her as she paid for it.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Scully was pacing in front of the tank, watching the plastic bag with the new fish float around the top of Mulder’s tank. What if the other fish don’t like the new fish? What if the new fish don’t like the others? What if Mulder notices the difference? What if another one dies? What if…

 

“It’s just a stupid fish,” Scully said out loud, peering intently into the tank. She checked her watch. Another ten minutes for the fish to acclimate. An hour before Mulder’s flight landed.

 

Scully’s cell phone rang and she answered it without looking. “Scully.”

 

“Hey, Scully.”

 

“Mulder?”

 

“You wouldn’t be available to swing by my apartment right now would you?”

 

“I’m…actually already here. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

 

“Got an earlier flight. I’m in a cab right now on my way home, but I can’t find my keys.”

 

“You’re…in a…how far away are you?”

 

“I don’t know, fifteen minutes maybe.”

 

“Fifteen…I was just feeding the fish. I’ll…stay here.”

 

“Thanks, Scully. See you soon.”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

“Dammit,” Scully said, hanging up the phone.

 

Fifteen minutes could mean ten. Could mean five. What should she do? Dump the fish in without letting it fully acclimate? Wait it out? She watched the time tick by on her watch, biting her thumbnail. At nine minutes, she couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Sorry little guy,” she muttered, untwisting the rubber band from the top of the plastic bag. “You’re just going to have to deal with this.”

 

Holding her breath, she dumped the new fish in the tank and watched closely as it darted through it’s new environment, disturbing the other fish who flew out of its way. They all settled after a few moments and all seemed normal.

 

Engrossed with the fish, she jumped when there was a knock on the door. “Shit,” she whispered, looking at the wet plastic bag in her hand. Grimacing, she shoved it in her pocket and then wiped her hand off on the front of her jeans.

 

“You’re a lifesaver,” Mulder said when she opened his door, pushing past her with his luggage.

 

“How was the conference?”

 

“Conference-like. Next time Skinner sends me to one of these things, I think I’m going to develop a spontaneous hemorrhoidal condition.”

 

Scully eyed Mulder nervously as he dropped a briefcase on his desk and ran his hand over the stack of mail she’d been collecting. She tried not to glance at the fish tank, hoping he wouldn’t either.

 

“Well,” she said, turning to head to the door. “I should…”

 

“Hey!” Mulder called and she froze, turning slowly. He was peering inside the tank, tapping on it slightly. She clenched her jaw.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, guilt eating at her for trying to trick him. “I just thought-”

 

“Where’d that castle come from?”

 

“…I just thought the fish might like it.”

 

Mulder smiled and stood up straight, walking over to her. “If you need any references as a fishsitter, I’ll be happy to provide.”

 

“I think I’ll stick to my day job.” She hesitated. “Do you need my key back?”

 

“Nah, I’ve got copies. You keep it. In case of fish emergencies.”

 

“Welcome back. See you at work tomorrow.”

 

“See ya.” Mulder waved and then plopped down on his couch.

 

Scully gave a little wave of her own and then headed to the door. Suddenly, she didn’t feel very trustworthy. Like his trust was misplaced and undeserved. “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, turning back around. “Mulder, I can’t lie to you. One of the fish died. I found it floating belly up this morning and I went to the pet store and got a new one. I don’t know what happened, it was fine yesterday, they were all fine yesterday, I even cleaned the tank and I got them the castle and they were fine. I didn’t save the body, but if you ask me, it had to be some sort of pre-existing condition or old age or…or whatever else it is that fish die from.”

 

Mulder raised his brows at her and then chuckled. “Scully, I’m lucky if I make it a month without losing one of the little suckers. They cost a quarter at the shop around the corner, which is probably why I go through so many of them.”

 

Scully’s cheeks burned a little with embarrassment. “Well, this one was two dollars. Maybe it’ll last longer.”

 

“Maybe.” He grinned at her, pushed himself up from the couch, and walked towards her. He touched her wrist with his index finger a little bashfully. “See you tomorrow, partner.”

 

Relieved of her burden, she nodded once and turned to walk away. He’d never really called her ‘partner’ like that. Like he meant it. She smiled as she left his apartment.

 

The End


	2. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> I've been sick all weekend and all alone since the hubs is traveling. Maybe you could write a prequel to the sickfic drabble thingy you posted a few days ago so where M looks after S so I can live vicariously?

He doesn’t know how to put it tactfully, but there’s really no tactful way to tell someone they look sick. Even asking ‘are you okay?’ implies that the person you’re asking does not, in fact, look okay. Because, why else would you ask? But, Scully looks like hell when she comes downstairs and he bites his lip to stop himself from saying anything. Turns out, he doesn’t have to.

 

“I feel like shit,” Scully says.

 

“Well, you look like a million bucks,” he answers.

 

She gives him a wary, unappreciative glance before she curls up on the sofa. He puts his newspaper down and gets up from the recliner to sit beside her.

 

“Go ‘way,” she mumbles with her eyes closed.

 

Mulder puts his hand on Scully’s forehead and brushes some damp strands of hair back over her ear. “What’s your medical opinion?” he asks, stroking her back a few times.

 

“Flu,” she says.

 

“Symptoms?” he asks.

 

“Chills. Aches. Nausea. Fever. Headache.”

 

“What can I get you?”

 

She sighs. “You should stay away. I just came down to get a blanket.”

 

“I’ll get the blanket. I think we’ve got some soups in the cupboard. I can make you something.”

 

“Not now.”

 

“Come on.” He scoops her up and she groans, swatting his chest with a lethargic hand and a weak protest, but he manages to get her up the stairs and back into bed.

 

He brings her a blanket and a glass of water and checks on her every half hour. She sleeps most of the day, but wakes up around noon to stumble to the bathroom. He holds her hair back as she vomits, pats her down with a damp cloth, and puts her back to bed. Later on, he coaxes her into having ginger ale and crackers.

 

“You should sleep downstairs,” she murmurs as he slips into bed beside her at the end of the day.

 

“Not leaving you.”

 

“I don’t want you to get sick.”

 

“I have an immune system of steel.”

 

“No, you don’t, and you hate being sick.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“Yes, but…”

 

“Go to sleep,” he says, kissing her cheek even though she tries to push him away. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

 

“I’m more worried about how you’ll feel.”

 

“I’ll feel great.”

 

“Famous last words,” she says through a yawn, too tired to continue to argue.

 

The End


	3. Crunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Angsty Chipfic?

The sound was unbearable. Scully was driving (and she rarely drove) and she was trying so hard to concentrate, but the sound was absolutely unbearable. And if Mulder did it one more time, she was going to…GOD DAMMIT!

 

“Mulder!” she exploded, digging her fingers into the steering wheel in frustration.

 

“Wha?” he asked, his mouth full of Doritos. Not the good kind either, not Nacho Cheese, but Cool Ranch. Why would he get Cool Ranch when he knew she hated them?

 

“I can hear you eating.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, I carry a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

 

“Did you want some?” he tipped the bag towards her and she recoiled.

 

“No. Is that the same stop sign we passed five minutes ago? How the hell do we get out of this town!?”

 

“I can call Detective White and ask for directions.”

 

“Detective White can kiss my ass.”

 

Mulder raised a brow and chomped down on another Dorito. Scully cringed.

 

The End


	4. Rethinking Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> MSR prompt: Pilot sex?

“Mosquito bites,” he says.

 

There is still panic in her voice.  “Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I got eaten up alive myself out there.”

 

His words are a blur as she ties up her robe and then throws herself into his arms.  She feels like she’ll never stop shaking.  He pats her back, soft at first, like he’s comforting a child, but then more firmly, like he knows she’s stronger than she looks.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says against his chest.

 

“Don’t be.”  His hand trails down her spine and comes to rest at the small of her back.  “Would you like to sit down?”

 

“Maybe in a minute.”

 

His hand leaves her back and she’s disappointed, but realizes it’s only so he can set the candle down behind him and then both his arms are around her and she takes a deep breath.  Even after running around all day, he still manages to smell fresh, both in his clothes and on his neck.  She doesn’t know how, but the cologne that had been traveling with them all day like a third passenger in the car still clings to his skin.  Or maybe now it’s part of her and she’s just smelling him on herself.  

 

He’s practically a stranger, she tells herself as she lifts her arms up around his neck.  So what? she answers back.  Even strangers can feel good and smell good.  But, but…

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?” Mulder asks.

 

“I’m sure,” she whispers.

 

Rain is such an aphrodisiac, she thinks, lifting up on her toes to press her open mouth to the side of Mulder’s neck.  Strangers can taste good too.  He groans and clutches her robe at her hips, pulling her into him as he bends to kiss her mouth, but pushing her away too just as quickly.

 

“We probably shouldn’t,” he whispers.

 

“You’re right.”  She nods, but her body disagrees and she reaches for him again just as he does.

 

Their height difference makes things difficult at first, but it turns advantageous once she pushes him back to the bed and sitting, he’s an inch or two shorter.  She steps between his legs and takes control of a searing kiss, whimpering as he pulls her robe apart and sweeps his hands up the back of her thighs from her knees to her ass.  His tongue fills her mouth and her lashes flutter.

 

She’s never been so wet so fast.  Every place he touches her, whether it’s his tongue along the roof of her mouth, or his fingertips at the back of her leg, a squeeze to her hip, her shoulder, even the back of his hand along her cheek, causes more and more concentrated throbbing to the juncture between her thighs until she’s overflowing with sensation.  He hasn’t even _really_ touched her yet, but she’s already near bursting.

 

Reluctantly, she disengages her mouth from his and pushes his shoulders back so she can remove his button-up shirt, not an easy task when he’s trying to wrap his arms around her to bring her back.  He gets the picture though and pulls the shirt off before yanking his t-shirt up and over his head.  She places both flattened palms against his chest, arms straight out in front of her.  They’re both breathing heavily.  He’s warm.  She feels flush.

 

“Scully,” he whispers, grazing his fingertips along the underside of her left arm, spreading gooseflesh out over her whole body, making her nipples tighten into painful peaks.  “We can stop.”

 

Her answer is to unlatch his belt and unbutton his pants.  He bites his lip and leans back on his hands as she slips her hand inside and strokes him over his underwear.  His adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.  She swallows too, already imagining the relief it’ll bring to have him inside her.

 

Clothes fall away quickly after she pulls her hand away.  Her robe puddles on the carpet and Mulder wiggles back on the bed to kick his pants away.  His eyes are on her chest and his mouth is open like a salivating dog as she unhooks her bra.  Obviously, he’s a breast man.  She’s not that surprised and takes a few moments to breathe as he watches, exaggerating the rise and fall of her chest a little just to torture him.

 

There’s a growing wet patch at the front of Mulder’s underwear, a dark grey stain that started as a splotch, now spreading quickly.  He adjusts himself over his shorts for some ridiculous reason and then seems to realize he should just take them off moments after she’s stepped out of her own panties.

 

“Condom?” Mulder asks as she straddles his hips and puts her hands on his shoulders.

 

“Birth control,” she answers, letting go of his shoulder with one hand to guide him inside.

 

“Fuck,” Mulder murmurs, gripping her hips tightly.  She can feel his thighs flexing underneath her as she slowly sinks down, down, down to his lap.  ‘Fuck’ is right, she thinks.  She needs a moment, just one or two, to get things situated.

 

Outside, the rain is pouring down.  A low growl of thunder rumbles.  The candle flickers on the table beside them, but they haven’t moved.  Her heart is pounding and there’s sweat at his temples, but they haven’t moved.

 

“Mulder,” she whispers.

 

“Scully,” he answers.  She likes that he calls her that and likes the way he says it.  Last names are supposed to be impersonal and professional, but it sounds like an endearment falling from his lips.

 

You hardly know him, she reminds herself.  You hardly know each other.  But, that doesn’t really seem to matter here in the dark, once he wraps one arm around her and finally moves.  He changes their position and that’s fine.  It’s more than fine, actually.  She’s under him and he’s over her and the headboard knocks steadily into the wall - her wall, she thinks, so it doesn’t matter - and God, he feels good.  Like scratching an unrelenting itch - a mosquito bite - into euphoria.

 

“Scully,” he says, over and over.  In whispers and in pants and in groans.  In her ear and against her skin and deep into the mattress.  It’s the only thing he says, but she doesn’t have words to answer him, just breathless sounds.

 

Finally, she’s there.  She’s right there looking over the edge, digging her fingers into his back as she gasps for breath and for some reason the sound of him calling her name is suddenly different.  More urgent.

 

Scully wakes with a jerk.  She’s white-knuckling the armrests of her seat and Mulder is peering at her closely, a look of concern on his face.  She’s breathing hard, disoriented.  Damp and sticky between her legs.

 

“Scully?” Mulder says.

 

“Yeah?” she breathes, touching her hands to her head and trying to cool her warm cheeks.  They’re still on the plane home.  She must’ve fallen asleep.

 

“Bad dream?”

 

“No…not exactly.  No.”  She clears her throat and fumbles in the back of the seat pocket for the bottle of water she stowed at the top of their flight.

 

Mulder cracks a sunflower seed between his teeth.  “You should write it down.  I have tons of dream interpretation books in the office.  We can look it up later.”

 

“That won’t be necessary.”  She takes a swig of water and rubs the back of her neck.

 

“What was it about?”

 

“The case,” she answers, heat coming back into her cheeks.  “Just about the case.”

 

The End


	5. Patrick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> MRS prompt: finding old love letters

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder called, flipping through a familiar-looking notebook as he walked into the room she was packing.

 

“What?” she asked.  She knew she recognized the notebook in his hand, but couldn’t place it.

 

“Who’s Patrick?”

 

“Patrick?” She squinted and wiped the back of her forearm against her forehead.

 

“Dear Patrick,” Mulder read.  “I dreamed you kissed me at summer camp and we went swimming together.  You told me not to tell Billy that you kissed me because he would punch you in the nose, but I said if Billy punched you in the nose, I would punch him back.  I know how to break his nose because Dad taught me how to punch.  Love, Dana.”

 

“Oh my God,” Scully chuckled, dropping the dish rags in her hand and reaching for the notebook.  “Can I see that?”

 

“First, I need to know more about this Patrick,” Mulder said, holding the book out of her reach.  “Who is he and did he ever kiss you at summer camp?”

 

Scully jumped up and snatched the book out of Mulder’s hand and flipped it open.  “He was one of Bill’s best friends,” she said.  “I don’t even think he knew I existed.  i was in love with him when I was about twelve.”

 

“I like this one,” Mulder said, leaning over Scully’s shoulder and stopping her from going any further in the book.  “Dear Patrick, I am more than Billy’s little sister.  When I said hello to you today at church, you told your mom that I was Billy’s little sister and you didn’t even tell her my name.  I forgive you, though.  Some day, people are going to say oh, there’s Billy Scully, he’s Dana Scully’s brother.  Love, DANA.”

 

“Where did you find this?” Scully asked.

 

“Taking the boxes out of the basement like you asked.  I opened up one with your name on it and a whole treasure trove spilled out.”

 

“What else was in there?”

 

“School stuff, trophies, some file folders.  This was just too interesting to wait.”

 

“I wonder how Mom ended up with it.  I wonder why I didn’t throw it out.”

 

“Maybe your love for Patrick burned too hot.”  Mulder swiped the notebook back from Scully’s clutches and flipped through more of it.  “Dear Patrick, If it’s because I’m twelve, I’ll understand.  I’ll be thirteen in eight months and Mom says I’ll be able to go to the mall by myself like Missy does.  Missy didn’t get to go to the mall by herself until she was fourteen, but I’m more responsible and mature, Mom says.  I also know I’m smarter than Jenny Flaherty, so I don’t know why you want to date her.  Billy says boys don’t give a crap about brains, but I think he’s wrong.  I do love nothing in the world so well as you.  Is not that strange?  (That’s from Shakespeare.  I didn’t even read it for school, so see, I bet Jenny Flaherty doesn’t even know Shakespeare)  Love, Dana.  Damn, Scully, you were vicious.  Poor Jenny Flaherty.”

 

“Wonder where she’s at today.”

 

“I’m more interested in the current state of Patrick.”

 

Scully smiled a little sadly and went back to cleaning and packing china.  “Killed his first year of college by a drunk driver.”

 

“Shit, really?”

 

“Yeah.  Bill was given a weekend pass from boot camp to attend the funeral.”

 

“Did you ever tell him?”

 

“Bill?”

“No, Patrick.”

 

“No.  I just wrote him letters I knew I’d never send.”

 

“Sort of like…”  Mulder stopped and then shook his head.

 

“Yeah, sort of like the ones I write to William,” she finished, glancing up at him.

 

“Could I read those ones some day?”

 

She licked her lips and rubbed imaginary spots off a plate with too much determination.  “Okay,” she finally said.

 

“I’ll get back to work on those boxes.”

 

“I’ll order lunch soon.”

 

Mulder came back over to her and put one arm around her, leaning down so his lips brushed her ear.  “ _I_ love nothing in the world so well as you,” he said.

 

“I know,” she said, setting the plate down so she could put her own arms around him too.

 

The End


	6. You've Been Talking in Your Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> scully catches mulder sleep talking about her (or vice versa) before theyre actually a couple

She hasn’t been camping in years. Not that this forced night in the woods is exactly camping, but it’s been too many years to remember what the sound of a forest at night is like. So far, she’s heard the soft purr of an owl, countless cracking twigs, the rustle of leaves and a chorus of crickets. She hasn’t heard a mothman though, not that she’d know what one sounded like even if she did hear one.

 

The fire has burned low and Mulder’s head has been heavy in her lap for more than an hour. She wants to get up, to stretch her back, to stoke the fire, but then Mulder might wake up and make her sing again. She shifted around to relieve some of the pressure on her tailbone, holding on to Mulder in hopes that it would as little disruptive as possible.

 

“Mm, Scully,” he mumbled.

 

Dammit, she thought. “S’okay,” she whispered.

 

“Wanna eat the cheese wi’you,”

 

“Hm?” She leaned over to look at his face, dark in the fading firelight. He was sound asleep, breathing steadily, mouth slack.

 

“Wanna eat the cheese wi’you,” he mumbled again. “I do. Build lots of towers.”

 

“Mulder, shhh…” She stroked his back and hugged him a little closer because he felt cold to her.

 

“’course I love you.”

 

“Shhh…” Oh God, she thought.

 

“Just can’t lose you. Too close. Too close.”

 

“You won’t lose me, Mulder,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “I’m right here.”

 

“I need you too much to eat the cheese, Scully. I wanna eat the cheese with you. I just can’t.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Mulder took a deep breath suddenly and his muscles tightened. Scully paused with her hand in his hair and waited until he relaxed again to slowly pull her hand away. He nuzzled her leg and let out a little snuffle.

 

“Bet our tower will be the best,” he muttered.

 

“Yeah. Shhh…”

 

Mulder didn’t say anything more. Not too long after that, the fire went out. She hugged him closer for warmth and listened to the owls and the twigs and the leaves, keeping her vigil for the mothmen. Not that she knew what she was listening for.

 

The End


	7. Planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Scully's thoughts on discovering Mulder's headstone and learning about his brain disease?

She couldn’t believe it.  She just couldn’t believe it.  She mulled over the last few months in her mind, thinking there had to have been signs she missed, but she couldn’t think of anything.  They’d been so happy.  Happy with the new development in their relationship from friends to lovers.  She’d never seen him laugh so much and she’d felt lighter too and that whole time he was _dying_?  It didn’t make sense.

 

The headstone was a slap in the face.  When it arrived at the office, Skinner tried to keep it from her, but as she sat down with it and stared at his name etched into the front it really hit her.  He was dying and he knew.  He told her he loved her, trusted no one but her, would do anything for her, and yet he didn’t bother to share this vital piece of information with her.  That sonofabitch.

 

She leaves work and heads to his apartment, ostensibly to feed the fish, but truly to tear the place apart from top to bottom if she has to, looking for some sort of clue to help her understand why he would do such a thing.  She finds a floor safe in his closet and considers asking the gunmen to break into it for her, but not until she’s spent several minutes trying different combinations: his birthday, her birthday, Samantha’s birthday, the date of Samantha’s abduction…the date of her own.  It works.

 

Inside, there’s a folder full of papers and a leather-bound journal.  She opens the folder first.  The first document is clearly labeled THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF FOX WILLIAM MULDER.  The folder slips from her hand as she runs to the bathroom and empties her stomach to lose the contents of her stomach.  She’d like to blame the baby for that one, but it wasn’t morning sickness.

 

The papers are strewn across the floor when she comes out and she gets down to pick them up, one by one.  There’s the will.  A deed to a house on Martha’s Vineyard.  A stock portfolio.  And there are papers for a trust account in her name to be transferred upon his death into her control for her own use or for any heir she may produce.  There’s also information for a fertility specialist - not the one she used last year - but his own, and for her legal use of his sperm being stored by their facility.

 

“Oh my God,” Scully says.  “Mulder…”  She touches her flat stomach, pressing her hand deep into her flesh.  They’d never talked about the in vitro after it had been unsuccessful.  Well, she didn’t.  She remembers once that he’d tried, but she’d quickly shut it down.  What was done was done.  To know that he’d prepared for an eventuality even in the face of failure was…she didn’t know what to think.  Had he known something she didn’t?  Did he know the baby currently inside her was possible?  Was his life the price he paid for it?

 

Scully’s lip catches under her teeth as she shuffles the papers together and puts them back inside the folder.  She unwraps the strings tying the journal closed and opens the first page.

 

_Scully -_

_There are some things I probably should tell you, but you’ve been so unfathomably happy lately - we’ve been so unfathomably happy, I should say.  I can’t bear to look at you and say this to you, so I’m going to write it down and you can read it when I’m gone, or you can just accept it for what it was.  These last few months have truly been the happiest of my life.  Getting to know the sides of you that you’ve kept hidden all these years has been a saving grace for me.  I only wish I could have left you with more of me than what fits into this little box and in these pages.  I’m hoping it’s still possible because I haven’t given up hope for a miracle.  Even when I’m gone, I still won’t give up.  Anyway, the rest will unfold as you keep reading.  If you keep reading._

_I love you.  I think I’ve always loved you.  If you ever look up sometimes, and a star winks at you, think of me._

_-Mulder_

 

Scully closes the journal, unable to catch her breath.  She puts the papers and the journal back into the safe and spins the dial.  She’s not ready to give up hope yet.  She just got one miracle, why not try for two?

 

The End


	8. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> If it appeals to you at all, would you consider writing something for the fugitive phase? Like the highs and lows or something along those lines?

## Day 1

“What are we going to do?” Scully asked once the rain had stopped.  Mulder had thought she was asleep.  He was barely clinging to consciousness himself, but still clinging to her.

 

“There’s a contingency plan,” he mumbled against her shoulder.  “The gunmen-”

 

“The gunmen are dead.”

 

“I know.  We worked it out before…everything.  I-we have IDs, passports, papers…money to disappear with.”

 

“We do?”

 

“There’s a safe deposit in San Francisco.  That’s what we’re going to do.”

 

## Day 4

They agreed to travel and night and to move slowly.  In Mulder’s opinion, anyone looking for them would be calculating the distance they could put between themselves and New Mexico and that’s where they would be looking.  He thought it best to throw them off the trail by being behind them instead of ahead.  Scully didn’t like it, but she trusted him.  He’d been able to hide himself for nine months so she let him take the reins.

 

The safe deposit box with their new identities was in a bank in Chinatown.  The last time they’d been there, they’d been tracking down an internal organ theft ring.  She was afraid someone might remember and might recognize them, but the locals seem to be less suspicious of them this time around.  Maybe it was the lack of badges and trench coats, but no one gave them a second glance as they weaved their way through the market stalls to the bank.

 

It didn’t go unnoticed by Scully, though Mulder tried to hide it, that there were three passports in the safe deposit box.  She asked to see them before he emptied the contents into a small backpack, but he shook his head and said ‘not now.’

 

Later, back at the motel, Mulder gave Scully the bag without a word.  She dumped it all out onto the bed and studied the documentation for Allen Vogle, Tricia Vogle (nee Blackburn) and Michael Vogle.  Passports and IDs for Allen and Tricia went back in the bag.  The passport and birth certificate for Michael (six weeks older on paper) were burned in the bathroom sink.

 

## Day 12

It was surprising how one could become accustomed to something new and unfamiliar so quickly.  Such as the ring on his finger or the color of Scully’s (no, not Scully, Tricia’s) hair.  Even though it had only been a week, playing the married couple on vacation didn’t feel that strange.  Maybe all those years of travel, of Scully being called ‘The Little Missus” at nearly every diner across the bible belt, had just been practice for this.

 

The only real difference between life before and life now was the single room and the single bed.  Plus the rings and the hair and Mulder’s new and neatly trimmed beard, not to mention their next destination was chosen at random by a blind finger pointed at a map and of course, the constant looking over one’s shoulder.

 

Otherwise, it was mostly the same.

 

## Day 44

Scully wanted to stop.  Just for a little while.  Just for a few days.  She’d forgotten the names of all the tiny towns they’d stopped in at this point but the 4th of July was coming up and couldn’t they just enjoy the holiday before moving on?  They’d been living sunset to sunrise from the front seat of a car for more than a month and she hadn’t realized how necessary daylight was to feel human until she rarely saw it anymore.

 

It was easy enough to blend in with the rest of the tourists in New Hope, PA, but it was a mistake to think she could be immune to the smiling, happy children running through the park, waving little flags, shrieking, getting pulled in Radio Flyer wagons, throwing tantrums over popcorn or candy, their faces painted with red hearts or blue stars.

 

They left well before the fireworks started.  Mulder picked up Chinese for them at a take-out place a few blocks from the motel.  Sounds of celebration - whistling and popping and crackling - started at dusk.  Scully tuned it all out in favor of their gasping sounds of release and the noises of encouragement it took to get them there.

 

## Day 70

“Do you think we should split up?” Scully asked.  Mulder thought someone might be following them, but he wasn’t sure.  He knew he’d seen that maroon Cadillac twice in the past week.  It stood out.  Firstly, because it was _maroon_ of all colors, and secondly, because the left headlight flickered on occasion.

 

“Split up?” he repeated, eyes bouncing between the road and the rear view mirror.

 

“To make us harder to follow.”

 

“I’m not doing this without you.  No way.”

 

“What are we even doing?”

 

“I don’t know.  Surviving.  Whatever it is, we’re doing it together.  You and me.”

 

She nodded and slid closer across the bench seating and took his hand from the wheel.  He laced their fingers together and rested their joined hands in her lap, keeping them there long after the maroon Cadillac had turned off the highway.  They were still holding hands when he shut off the engine in the parking lot of a motel at first light.

 

“We should trade in the car today,” he said, his voice gravelly in the quiet confines of the car.

 

She nodded in agreement.  They’d had four cars so far.  He looked down at his lap and then back up at her.

 

“Do you want to split up?” he asked.

 

“No.”

 

## Day 147

“What do you want for your birthday?” Scully asked.  She was driving.  The radio had just announced the midnight hour on October 13th.

 

Mulder snorted softly from the passenger seat.  “How about a vacation?”

 

“That sounds nice.  Where to?”

 

“I hear Peoria is lovely this time of year.”

 

“As luck would have it, we’re only 200 miles away.”

 

“Well then, happy birthday to me!”

 

The Beach Boys were singing about little surfer girls and Scully turned the radio off.

 

“What do you really want, Mulder?  If you can have anything at all.”

 

“The last two years back,” he said after a few moments.  “What about you?”

 

“It isn’t my birthday.”

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“I’ve said it before and I’ve said it again, Mulder.  We want the same thing.”

 

## Day 219

They stopped for the winter just after Thanksgiving.  The weather was becoming a problem as was their overall stamina.  It wasn’t easy finding a place that they could hide out in yet still be prepared to leave should the need arise.  They ended up in Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, a place that was small enough and just touristy enough for them to remain inconspicuous.

 

Christmas nearly passed them by, but at the last minute, Mulder found a sad little twig of a tree outside a local drug store on Christmas Eve and he couldn’t let it sit there.  He brought it back to the condo they rented and put it on the counter of the wet bar where the canned light shone down on it.  He put the chocolate Santa and tiny souvenir snow globe he got for her under the tree and then called her in from the next room.

 

“If I’d known we were having a Charlie Brown Christmas, I would’ve gotten you something,” she said.

 

“It was spontaneous.”  He shrugged.  “And not really anything to sneeze at.”

 

“I can see that.”  She unwrapped the foil from the chocolate and held it up to his mouth for a bite. 

 

“These will all be on sale after tomorrow.  We should stock up for the new year.”

 

She smiled.  “Last year I…”

 

“What did you do last year?”

 

“It snowed on Christmas Eve.”  She put the chocolate down and swallowed.  Her eyes grew wet and she blinked a few times.  “I put William in his snowsuit and a little hat and took him outside.  His eyes were so big and wide when the snow hit his cheeks and then he just laughed.  He put his hand out and it was like he somehow got the biggest snowflakes to come to him.”

 

“I wish I could’ve been there.  I wish that…”

 

“I know.”  Scully picked up the little snow globe with a surfing Santa inside and gave it a shake.  “But, this is no life for a toddler.”

 

“Maybe it’s snowing where he is now.”

 

“I’m sure he’d like that.”  She put the globe down and touched him lightly on the chest as she made her way back to the other room.

 

## Day 375

They’d agreed that waiting a year to settle down somewhere permanently.  There was a house waiting for them in Virginia.  A small, unremarkable piece of property that might as well have been in the middle of nowhere, purchased years ago under an alias and had then sat in wait.

 

The anniversary of their first year as Allen and Tricia Vogle was spent in Fort Wayne, Indiana, but dates had started to become insignificant little things since the new year.  They counted days more than they acknowledged dates anymore.  Christmas and New Year’s were hard to miss, but things like Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, even your own birthday, were easier to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

 

They did remember William’s second birthday though.  Really it was Scully who had noticed the date and Mulder put two and two together when she woke him early in the afternoon, well before they usually left a place, and asked him to take her to a church.  He waited in the car so he didn’t know what she did inside - prayed, confessed, lit a candle - but she wasn’t there too long.  They didn’t speak about it, but he knew.  He also knew it was time to head to Virginia.

 

“i don’t know, Mulder,” she said, getting out of the car and putting her hands on her hips.  “Are you sure you didn’t buy this house because you thought it might be haunted?”

 

Mulder grinned.  “I did put it on the list of requirements, right up there with gas appliances, ample closet space, and central heat.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“It might not look like much from the outside, but it’s a decent place.”

 

Scully leaned back into Mulder’s chest a little when he put his hands on her shoulders.  She tipped her head back and looked up at him.

 

“So this is the end of the road?” she asked.

 

“Hopefully.”

 

She pushed away from him and went up to the porch, taking a hesitant step up, testing her weight on the wood.  It was more solid than it looked.  Not even a creak of the floorboards as she made her way up the stairs.  Mulder was right behind her, keys in his hand.  Scully cupped her hands against the dirty window in front and peered inside, but she couldn’t see much.  She backtracked over to the edge of the porch and wrapped her arm around the post, looking out at the empty fields surrounding them.

 

“Coming, Scully?” he asked, holding the door open.

 

“Right behind you,” she answered.

 

The End


	9. Rob Never Stood a Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Prompt: Sully's reaction the first time she realizes that she's attracted to Mulder

Scully doesn’t remember telling Ellen that Mulder was cute.  She remembers thinking it when she met him, but she’s not a judge a book by it’s cover type person.  Looks aren’t something she ever really goes for.  Not to say she doesn’t notice when something is aesthetically pleasing, but she’s more attracted to someone who could hold a conversation and not someone who makes a pretty decoration.

 

She agrees to a date with Rob because she can’t remember the last time she went on a date.  It was circa last year when she started working with Mulder, but she’s just been too busy to care about dating.  Ellen not-so-subtly finagled a one-on-one meeting in the kitchen for them to chat while her godson’s birthday party raged on and she thought, why not?

 

Somewhere between her front door and the restaurant, she started making unnecessary comparisons between Rob and Mulder.  Everything from the way he drove (perfectly at ten and two like he was taking his driver’s test, Mulder’s voice in her head snickered) to how he put his hand at her back (Mulder’s touch is lower and lighter).  And the one thing thought came out of nowhere: Mulder is cuter.

 

It doesn’t matter what Mulder does or would do or how cute he is, he’s off limits.  But, when they sit down to dinner, she finds out it’s more than that.  Mulder would make better conversation.  Mulder would be funnier.  Mulder would be more confident.  Mulder wouldn’t say something so inane.  Mulder tells better stories and tells them better.

She’s so relieved when her pager goes off that she can get away from the table for a few moments.  Of course it’s Mulder.  Who else would interrupt a date, but Mulder?  She should be annoyed about it, but she really isn’t.  She actually can’t wait to see what he has in store for her with this case.  In fact, every case they’ve had so far has given her a bit of a butterflies-in-the-stomach type thrill.

 

She apologizes her way out of the date with Rob and catches a taxi home to change so she can drive to Atlantic City.  It’s late, but Mulder meets her in the parking lot of his motel and instead of letting her get a room, he jumps into the car with her and tells her about his day.

 

He’s giddy and excited and his exuberance is infectious.  She smiles indulgently at him, even though it’s three in the morning and all she’d like to do is get a room and go to bed, and thinks, he’s so cute like this.  And for just a second she can’t help but wonder what it would be like for him to look at her with the kind of passion he looks at a case.  She knows in that moment, there will be no second date with Rob.

 

The End


	10. About Diana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Mulder and Scully talk after One Son. Mulder clears up a few things.

It was something they both secretly prided themselves on, that no matter how much they disagreed on the aspects of a case, they could still work together to do the best job they could.  They didn’t necessarily have to see eye to eye on the facts, but they always saw eye to eye on the objective: protect lives, help people.

 

Scully felt like she no longer knew the man that sat beside her.  Like the six years between them had never happened.  This Mulder, the Mulder under the spell of Diana Fowley, was a stranger to her.  This Mulder didn’t listen.  This Mulder didn’t respect her.  This Mulder didn’t trust her.  This Mulder didn’t believe her or believe _in_ her.  This Mulder hurt her.

 

But, still.  Still, they managed to put that to the side in the wake of stumbling upon the charred remains of the men who’d been betrayed just as much as they’d betrayed others.  To make the calls, to manage the crime scene, to do what they were supposed to do.  Scully knew as she watched him stare at the bodies that he was looking for Diana.  He didn’t have to say anything.  The guilt and fear was in his eyes.  She still knew him well enough to know that much.

 

As the sun came up in the early hours of the morning, there was nothing left for them to do.  “Come on, Mulder,” she said, tugging the sleeve of his jacket.  “Let’s go home.”

 

“I can’t go home,” he said, exhaustion in his voice.  “The CDC still has it under quarantine.”

 

“We can’t stay here.”  She guided him to the car and he slid into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

 

“A hotel is fine,” he mumbled.  “Or just take me to the office.  I’ll sleep under the desk.”

 

“Mulder.”

 

“Don’t, Scully.  I know you can’t possibly want to talk to me right now.  You probably don’t even want to look at me right now.  So, just…don’t.”

 

“You don’t know what I want.”

 

“You want me to apologize?  You want me to tell you I’m sorry?”

 

“I just want to know why.”

 

“Why does anyone do anything?”

 

Tired, angry, exhausted, Scully started the car.  She drove on auto-pilot, heading for her apartment.  If Mulder wanted to go somewhere else, he’d have to do it on his own after she was home.  Almost half an hour passed in silence with nothing but the sounds of morning traffic as thy headed back to DC.

 

“We were almost married,” Mulder said suddenly.  She took her eyes off the road for a second to glance at him.

 

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

 

“If what you said was true, it would mean that anyone who ever claimed to care about me also lied to me.”

 

“You know that’s not true.”

“No?  My father.  My mother.  My fiancee.”  

 

“I care about you, Mulder, and I’ve never lied to you.”

 

“It wasn’t you I didn’t trust, Scully, it was your judgment.”

 

“What the hell does that mean, Mulder?”

 

“You weren’t acting like my partner, you were acting like a jealous lover.”

 

“How did I do that, exactly?”

 

“Come on, Scully.  Any time there’s ever been a female sniffing around the place, you get all territorial.”

 

“That’s absurd.”

 

Mulder ticked a list off on his fingers.  “Phoebe.  Detective White.  Bambi Barenbaum.  Diana.”

 

“In the face of all that I told you, all that the gunmen dug up, it’s my alleged motivations that bother you but not the evidence?”

 

“You had no evidence!” he shouted.  “You had a complete lack of any information.  What you had was conjecture.”

 

“That was the whole point, Mulder!” she shouted back.  “The lack of evidence.  The very fact that Diana’s activities as an agent are untraceable is suspect.  She wasn’t in deep cover, so it shouldn’t have been that hard.  It was like she didn’t exist between 1991 and when she walked through our basement door last year.”

 

“ _My_ basement door.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  Scully nearly pulled the car over on the expressway and kicked him out.  She seethed with anger, and to Mulder’s credit, he melted back into his seat like he knew he’d gone too far.

 

They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive and she didn’t look at him when she pulled up and parked across the street from the Hoover Building.  She kept the engine idling and Mulder just sat there, stone-faced and silent.  She didn’t ask him to leave because she didn’t want to speak to him, but his presence was becoming unbearable.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look at her.

 

“If OPR hadn’t reversed their decision last summer and we’d been split up,” he said, “and it was seven years before I saw you again, would you trust me?”

 

“Of course I would.”  She realized her mistake immediately and sighed.  “It’s different.”

 

“And if someone came to me with the same allegations about you, should I believe them, or give you the benefit of the doubt of having known you?”

 

“I would consider the source.”

 

“The source isn’t as objective as she’d like to be.”

 

“The source has always had your well-being at heart.”

 

“You don’t have all the facts.”

 

“Then tell me.”  Scully banged the steering wheel once with the bottom of her hand.  “Goddammit, Mulder, _tell me_.”

 

“I’ve always known about the MUFON monitoring.  The trips to Tunisia.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, if the gunmen were able to find a few breadcrumbs…”  Mulder trailed off and shook his head.  “I asked her to do those things.”

 

“Why?  How?”

 

“Because she could.  Because I knew she would if I asked her to.  Because I trusted her.”

 

Scully was stunned into silence.  She stared out the window at the morning commuters briskly making their way to the government buildings dotting the blocks ahead.

 

“My gut feeling is that she was compromised,” Mulder said.  “And if she was, it was me that inadvertently threw her into the lion’s den.”

 

“How long were you working with her?”

 

“I wasn’t really working with…about two years.  Around the time…when you were in the hospital.”

 

“Jesus, Mulder.”

 

“Scully, if Diana’s body is found amongst the charred remains, it’s my fault.”

 

“And if she isn’t?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Scully turned away and licked the side of her mouth, trying to reconcile this new information with her intuition.  She truly believed the woman was up to no good, but was that judgment clouded by feelings she kept suppressed most of the time?  Deep, deep down, she knew that what she felt for Mulder extended beyond a partnership, but she didn’t quite think she was in love with him.  What she felt was something unique and unexplainable.  And sometimes the urge to protect him transcended all reason.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” she asked.

 

Mulder plucked at his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger for a few moments and then he shifted uncomfortably.  “I was afraid if there were any connection between the two of you, there’d be a possibility you’d be taken again.  For what you might know.  And…”  He trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“She was more…expendable.  If they figured out what I was doing, she was more expendable.”

 

Scully took a sharp breath and Mulder dug his fists into his eyes.  Finally, she took one of his hands and pulled it away, giving him a tight squeeze.

 

“It’s not your fault,” she said.  “None of it, Mulder.  What happened to me, what may have happened to Diana, what happened to your sister, none of it is your fault.”

 

“I’m sorry, Scully.  I didn’t mean to push you away.  I never wanted us to end up like this.”

 

“Mulder, you once told me that if I withheld anything from you, I wasn’t working with you, I was working against you.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You can’t ever do this again.  Ever.  If you ever keep something like this from me again, it will break us.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

Scully let go of Mulder’s hand and they sat quietly together in the car until he sighed and then rubbed his head.  He looked as exhausted as she felt.  Without a word, she put the car in gear and pulled out into the street.

 

“Where are you going?” Mulder asked.

 

“I’m taking you home.”

 

“I can’t go home.”

 

“My home.  We need to sleep.”

 

“Are we okay, Scully?”

 

“I don’t know.  I know that I’m not giving up.  Are you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then we’ll just have to see where that takes us.”

 

The End


	11. In the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Mrs prompt ' Rainy June'
> 
> anonymous asked:
> 
> do you have anything for a summertime fluffy mulder and scully drabble?  
> thanks.

Mulder had forgotten how suddenly a storm could roll through D.C.  Even if the sun was shining, that could turn on a dime.  One minute the sky would be blue, the next minute grey and blustery.  One minute dry, the next torrential.  And then it would roll out as quickly as it came, like it never even happened.  If not for the soggy pavement and dripping trees, you may not have even know it was there.

 

Scully was back in Georgetown in a little condo not too far from where she’d lived back in the “before” time, as Mulder called it.  Before they were together, before he was dead, before they were childless, before they were fugitives, etc.  They were now in the “after” time.  After they were together, after they couldn’t speak to each other without accusations, after putting everything behind them and moving on.

 

He’d only been to the condo a handful of times.  He didn’t bother her anymore about the work like he used to.  He kept the cases a 9-5 job, or tried to, at least.  It was Scully now that usually kept him going after hours.  It was she who called him when an idea occurred.  And a few times that just led to an after hour visit that was mostly, strictly business.

 

Her new neighborhood left much to be desired for parking, but Scully didn’t mind.  She liked to walk, even if it took a half an hour to get from the car to her condo, and it would’ve been more efficient to leave the car at work and take the Metro, she preferred the walk.  Mulder, in the few times he’d been invited over, had liked the extra time with her.

 

June was notoriously humid, not as bad as July, but still.  Scully parked the car about a mile away in a secret spot she had found and Mulder left his suit jacket in the back of her car to retrieve at a later time.  He rolled his shirtsleeves up as they walked, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned a few buttons.  Scully had her blazer draped over one arm and she clipped her hair up off her neck.

 

They strolled casually down the quiet residential streets, like a couple on their way home after a long day.  The first time he walked home with her, in fact, an elderly lady that spent her days on the porch of her townhouse a block from Scully’s place, had called out to Scully and asked to be introduced to her husband.  Scully smiled, introduced Mulder, and asked the woman if she needed anything.  Secretly, Mulder had enjoyed the hell out of it.  He liked the old lady’s assumptions about that.  He liked that Scully didn’t correct her.  He pretended in that moment they were on their way home together, stopping in to see the neighbor they helped out on occasion and checked in on.  It felt like the most normal thing in the world.

 

They only made it half-way to Scully’s place before the weather took a turn.  Scully looked up just before he did when the sun disappeared and the light dimmed grey and ominous.  

 

“Uh oh,” Mulder said.  “We aren’t gonna make it.”

 

“Probably not.”

 

And no sooner had they stopped to look up, did they feel the first drops of rain.  Mulder wiped a spot away from his cheek and Scully blinked one from her eyelash.  There was nowhere to turn for cover.

 

Moments later, the sky opened, letting loose a flood of rain that had them both hopelessly drenched.  Mulder tipped his face up and closed his eyes, giving in to it and letting it shower him.  He took his hands out of his pockets and held them out to catch it.  And then he heard it.  Over the roar of the storm, Scully was laughing.

 

Mulder looked down at her and twenty five years melted away until they were back in a graveyard, laughing together in the rain.  They weren’t partners yet, weren’t anything to each other yet, just two people who agreed on something so ridiculous they had to laugh about it and he hadn’t heard her laugh like that ever again.  He didn’t know how it was possible for her to look the same as she did back then, but it might have been the hysterical laughter bubbling up that played a trick on his eyes.  He blinked and she was the same Scully.  Different, but the same.

 

He started laughing as well because how absurd to be back where you started from after all this time.  A slice of hair was slicked against Scully’s cheek, having worked it’s way loose from her clip while they walked.  He pushed it back over her ear with his wet fingertips and she bit her lower lip, still giggling like the Scully he’d just met so long ago.  

 

He had to do it.  He leaned down and kissed her laughing mouth, catching the side of her upper lip with his.  It was a New Year’s kiss, hesitant and shy.  An ‘I’m not sure if you’ll let me, but I want to test the waters’ kiss that lasted only a few seconds longer than a friendly peck.

 

“Mulder,” she murmured, licking rainwater from her mouth or, he hoped, the taste of him.  

 

“I know I shouldn’t have,” he said.  “But, I just…”

 

Scully grabbed the bottom of his soaking tie and gave it a tug, bringing him closer.  “I know for a fact you can do better than that,” she said.

 

The sky cleared only moments later, but he was too busy showing her exactly how he remembered that he could do much better than that.

 

The End


	12. After the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe-if-it-rains-sleepingbags asked:
> 
> Cute season 11 msr in Scully's apartment?
> 
> Anonymous said:
> 
> Please write more revival MSR I love them 

She was laughing again as they finally turned the last corner to her block.  Mulder's shoes squished with every step he took and his soaked clothes were starting to become more than just a little uncomfortable.  The air conditioning inside the building had them both shivering before they even got in the elevator.

 

They left a trail of rainwater behind them and a Scully gave a sincerely apologetic look to the desk clerk who looked at them with disdain. They drip drip dripped inside the elevator, creating a pool around their feet and Scully caught another case of the giggles.  Mulder couldn't stop smiling.  She took her heels off and Mulder squished his way behind her to her door.

 

“I think…” she said.  “Come into the bathroom.”

 

“Let me get my shoes off.”  He untied his laces in the hallway and stepped out of his shoes before entering.

 

“Come on,” she said, guiding him through the bedroom into the attached bath.  She had most of her shirt unbuttoned by then, but couldn't seem to manage peeling it away from her skin.

 

“Don't suppose you have anything of mine I could wear laying around do you?”

 

“Sorry, no.”  She shucked her shirt and shivered.  It made a little plop as she dropped it on the counter next to the sink.  “There's a washer-dryer in that closet though.”

 

Mulder tried to keep his eyes on her face, but it had been a long time since she'd been even the remotest bit naked in front of him.  Her bra was dark blue satin, revealing nothing, but still.  He knew what it was hiding. 

 

“Mulder?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Get undressed.”

 

“Scully are you coming on to me?”

 

She didn't respond, but she gave him a sleepy-eyed gaze as she unbuttoned her pants.  He fumbled for the buttons on his shirt and worked half of them free by the time she'd kicked her pants off her ankles.  Don't think about the matching panties, he told himself.  Just don't. 

 

His shirt was stuck to him in all sorts of places, but he managed to work it off and tossed it next to hers.  She had one leg crossed over her knee and a grip on the counter as she leaned over to peel off one of her knee-high stockings.  He blinked away from the glance of cleavage it afforded him and undid his belt.

 

“Mulder,” she said, concern in her voice.  She straightened and came towards him, fingers brushing his hip.  “What did you do?”

 

He was confused at first, until he looked down and realized she was touching the scar on his side that post-dated the last time she'd touched him like this.  Her eyes flew to his, worried over an injury she didn't know about.

 

“I was moving stuff around the office and that old cabinet we found at that estate sale basically fell apart.  The wood split and jabbed me in the hip.”

 

She looked back down, tracing the jagged scar.  “Why didn't you…?”

 

He wasn't sure what the end of that question was.  Call? Tell her?  Shoot over an email and beg for her help?  Whatever it was, the answer was the same.

 

“It was just about two years ago,” he said.  

 

She nodded.  They weren't speaking then.  Not really.  Not unless there were papers to sign.  

 

Scully’s eyes roamed over Mulder's body and her hands followed, moving over his skin like she was inspecting him for more changes.  He knew he was a little thicker than the last time they'd done this, but the scar was the only new addition.  Still, he certainly didn't mind if she looked.  

 

He couldn't help but chuckle.  Scully, in her underwear and one stocking, assessing him with her doctor’s hands while he stood still in wet pants, belt undone and button free.  She looked up at him and smiled for a moment before running her fingers down his arm and taking hold of his hand.  She turned it over and traced the lines in his palm before bringing it up to her cheek and holding it to her face.

 

“We’re too old for this,” she said.

 

“There are pills for that now, but trust me, I'm not that old.”

 

She chuckled into his hand and then turned and pressed her lips to the center.  “To be so silly about this.”

 

“That's always been us.”

 

“I guess it has.”  She lets him go and takes a few steps back until her hips bump the counter.  “Do you want to take a shower?”

 

“Will you be in it?”

 

“I might be.”

 

“I do.”

 

They undressed the rest of the way.  Scully got into the shower first while Mulder struggled with his soggy socks, finally sitting down on the closed toilet to strip them from his feet.  He paused and took a cleansing breath before he drew back the shower curtain and stepped inside with her.  It was only a moment before she was in his arms and her chilled skin was pressed against his.  He walked her back into the spray until they were both in its stream.

 

Scully’s lips and hands were cool in the wake of the hot water.  She peppered his chest with light kisses and kneaded the muscles in his shoulders, working her way down to his backside.  If she’d had any actual doubts about his virility, certainly those were erased by the clear evidence of his arousal.  She brushed against him every time she moved, driving him crazy and he growled, pawing at her hips. Scully chuckled, opening her mouth against his chest so her teeth scraped against his nipple and he groaned.  She turned suddenly and reached up to pull a bottle of body wash from the shower caddy.

 

“Give me your hands,” she said.

 

Mulder slipped his arms under hers.  She poured a bit of the soap into both of his hands, put it back into the rack, and then leaned against his chest.  He rubbed his hands together for a few moments in front of her and then splayed his soapy hands out on her belly.  He rubbed circles into her soft skin and then crept up to her breasts.  She sighed and brought an arm up to curl her hand around the back of his neck.

 

The soap rinsed away quickly, but Mulder didn’t stop squeezing her breasts lightly or caressing her.  She eventually pulled one of his hands down and pushed his fingers between her thighs.  This shower was not conducive to sex.  There was no ledge to put a foot on, no built in soapdish to hold on to.  Not like their shower at home.  He thought of her safety, of his knees, of the shoulder injury she got some years back restraining a patient at the hospital.  

 

“Maybe we are too old for this in particular,” he said, even as his fingers slipped inside her.

 

“Don’t stop,” she answered.

 

“Take me to bed, Scully.”

 

“Stop being so gentle.”

 

“Take me to bed,” he whispered in her ear, holding her tightly with one arm as he worked her fast and hard with his free hand.

 

“Yes.  Yes, Mulder, yes.”  She moved up on her toes and he knew she was close.  It was something she’d always did when orgasm approached, momentarily tried to get away from it instead of giving in to it.  If they were in bed, she would push him back, arch and twist her body away from him, but fiercely pull him back to her to finish.

 

Scully’s foot slipped a little, but Mulder’s grip was tight.  He could feel her heart pounding against his chest.  She braced one hand on the wet wall and grabbed his wrist with the other.  She came with a gasp and he stilled his fingers, keeping them inside her until her body relaxed and she let go of his wrist.  He put his hands on her hips, watching her bow her head and let the water pour over her.

 

She turned, dropped her head back with closed eyes so the spray hit her face.  She slicked her hair back with both hands and then reached for him, one hand low on his side and the other wrapping around his pulsing member.  He groaned as she tugged at him, soft yet firm.

 

“I need to be inside you,” he said.  “It’s been too long.”

 

Scully shut off the water and they toweled off just enough to not be soaking wet.  She pulled the covers down and pushed the pillows off the side of the bed before she invited him in, sliding back as he crawled over her.  This meant she wanted it slow, or at least, it used to mean that.  When she was under him and he was over her, she liked it slow and easy, deep kisses, and a lot of touching.  So, that’s what he gave her.

 

She was a little softer now and she didn’t hold him as tightly as she used to.  There were other subtle differences too that he may not have noticed if two years hadn’t gone by.  Her sounds were just a little different.  The bed was unfamiliar.  Her neck didn’t smell the same.  It didn’t matter much though, because he still knew how to touch her, how to kiss her, how to move his hips the way she liked.

 

Later, in the tangle of sheets and slowed breathing, she didn’t stop tracing the scar on his hip, back and forth, back and forth.  He took her hand a few times, kissed her fingers to distract her, but she came back to the strip of puckered skin like she couldn’t quite believe it was real.  Finally, she got up and put their clothes in the washing machine.  He sat at her little dining table with a towel around his hips, Scully in a comfy blue robe, as they ate leftover Chinese.

 

The dryer buzzed while they played a game of Scrabble and Scully reluctantly got up to take the clothes out before they wrinkled.  Mulder thought it might just be because she was winning, but the way she looked at him as she watched him dress made him think otherwise.

 

“I guess I need to get going,” he said.

 

“Why?”

 

“I think if I show up to work tomorrow in the same, wrinkled suit, people might talk.  Because it’s either that or a towel.  Either way…”

 

“I wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Being talked about?”

 

“You in a towel all day.”  She smiled at him and he chuckled back at her.  He loved it when she made little jokes like that.  “I’ll get dressed.”

 

“I can call a cab.”

 

“I can take you.”

 

He didn’t argue and he took his turn watching her get dressed as he made the bed for her.  When she started to pack a bag, he looked at her curiously.

 

“No sense in driving all the way out to the house and coming back,” she said.  “Plus, we still haven’t gone over the case notes.  We’ll just ride in together tomorrow.  Unless...”

 

“Yes, I want you there.”

 

“I was going to say, unless you think people might talk.”

 

“People have been talking for twenty-five years.”

 

“Well then let me get this bag packed and we can go home.”

 

His heart swelled a little.  She didn’t call it his home, she just called it home.  He watched her pack the way he used to when she took little trips for work at the hospital, making efficient use of small space.

 

“I notice you didn’t put pajamas in there,” he said as she zipped up.

 

She just smiled at him.

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. When You Gotta Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Post deadalive a highly pregnant Scully is at Mulders (you can assume they have reconciled/he is less of an asshole/poorly written). He's in the shower, she really needs to pee...Coz you know you're really a couple when you can go in front of the other person :)

It wasn’t until the late stages of her pregnancy that she began to really feel pregnant.  She got tired a lot easier, but had a hard time sleeping.  She was hungry all the time, but couldn’t eat a full meal (and pizza seemed to be her only real craving).  And then there was the fact that she had to pee.  All the time.  It felt as though her bladder had shrank down to the size of a tic-tac and it didn’t help matters that now the baby seemed to find it a comfortable spot to rest and tap dance.

 

Another thing had changed.  Mulder was quite adamant on not leaving her alone as the countdown to her due date drew closer.  She protested, of course, but not as much as she normally would have.  The truth was, she actually felt better knowing he was there just in case something were to happen.

 

They spent most of their nights at his apartment.  Strangely enough, she found it easier to sleep there, in his bed, surrounded by his clutter and his scent.  It might also have been the fact that Mulder was more relaxed in his own environment and it was where they’d spent most of their time when they were lovers.  Not that she wouldn’t still consider them lovers, but the physical aspect of their relationship had been on hold since his return.  They’d shared touches, a few kisses, some holding, but they were both reticent about anything more.

 

It didn’t stop them from sleeping together, in the literal sense.  There was only one position Scully found comfortable these days and it became a bit of a routine.  She would lay down on her side and Mulder would tuck a pillow against her back and slide one between her knees before he lay down behind her, the pillow between them, and rested his hand on her hip.  

 

Most mornings she woke before Mulder, wiggled her way out of bed without waking him, and went through the routine of using the restroom, brushing her teeth and washing her face.  She was usually reading the paper with her morning cup of orange juice before he stumbled out of bed.

 

She was surprised on this morning to find that she was alone in bed.  The soft pressure of him behind her was gone and the sun was streaming through the window.  With a bleary blink, her eyes focused on the clock on the nightstand and she was stunned to find she’d slept in nearly an hour and a half past her usual wake up time.  She stretched and then immediately regretted it.

 

Not only did Scully have to pee, she had to pee more urgently than any other time she could ever remember in her life.  She had to pee so badly her hips hurt and her lower back hurt.  She had to pee so badly she was afraid to get up.  

 

And then she also realized, much to her horror, the bathroom was occupied.  Mulder was in the shower.  She could hear him humming to himself over the din of the spray.  The sound of the spray also didn’t help with her current situation.

 

What was she going to do?  Could she go to a neighbor’s apartment?  Number one, she didn’t know his neighbors very well and they weren’t that friendly.  Number two, she would have to get dressed.  And number three, she wasn’t even sure she could get out of bed, let alone make it to another apartment.  But, if she didn’t get up soon, as in right now, none of it would matter because she was sure she would pee the bed.

 

With much difficulty and the hard press of her thighs together, she slid out of bed and stood, hunched over just a little so she wouldn’t put more pressure on her bladder.  She hobbled to the bathroom and pushed open the door that was only half-way shut to begin with.

 

“Scully?” Mulder asked.

 

Damn him and his squeaky door.  She gritted her teeth and lowered the toilet seat.  “Don’t listen!” she called.

 

“Listen to what?”  He poked his head out from behind the shower curtain just as she lowered her shorts and underwear to her knees.

 

“Mulder!”  She yanked the curtain back in place so he couldn’t see her and then she heard him chuckling.  Unable to hold it any longer, she sat down and began to relieve herself.

 

And it seemed like it would never end.  Mulder was too quiet in the shower and her cheeks burned.

 

“Stop listening!” she said.

 

He started laughing again and then began to sing loudly, around his own laughter.  “99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall.”

 

He made it to 96 bottles before she flushed the toilet and escaped the bathroom with not much of her dignity intact.  She was in the kitchen pouring her orange juice only a few minutes later when he came up behind her, dripping wet and a towel around his waist.

 

“Hey,” he said, slipping his arms around her, getting her back wet and handprints on her belly.

 

“I can't look at you right now,” she mumbled.

 

“I didn't hear anything.”

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“So, what?”

 

“Some things should remain a mystery.”

 

“But, I liked it.”

 

Scully whirled around with her brow raised, an expression of mild horror on her face.

 

“Not like  _ that. _ ” he clarified.  “I mean, it felt normal.”

 

“Normal?”

 

“It's what people in relationships do, Scully.  They stop being so cautious with each other.  They take things out of their comfort zones.  They take a tinkle or two in front of each other when they live together and only have one bathroom.”

 

“We don't live together.”

 

Mulder pulled away and raised his brows.  “That's what you got from that?”

 

“That and you use the word ‘tinkle’ which is a little strange.”

 

“I was trying to be delicate.”

 

“And I...I appreciate that.”

 

“Well good, because you take some really long showers sometimes and there have been some close calls.”

 

“It was a one time thing, don't get any ideas.”

 

He backed away with his hands up in surrender.  “One bathroom, just saying.”

She sipped her orange juice and put a hand on her belly.  Maybe she should have that talk with Mulder soon about things changing between them and their future.  And that ‘two bathrooms’ were going to be on her list for some of those changes.

 

The End

 

 

 

 


	14. At the Border

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request for an on the run fic

They’ve been fighting about little things lately.  Snapping at each other over the radio stations or where to stop for food or gas.  Scully punched a hole in their map the other day when Mulder chose to take a different highway than the one she’d suggested.  They’re somewhere near the Kansas border when the storm starts, a torrential summer downpour that doesn’t show any signs of letting up anytime soon, when an argument about stopping the car breaks out.

 

“Just pull the car over,” Mulder says.  “Even I wouldn’t drive in this.”

 

“God’s gift to the open road,” she answers white-knuckling the steering wheel.

 

“Just pull the car over.”

 

“You do what you want when you’re driving, I’ll do what I want when I’m driving.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Scully, there’s a wall of rain in front of us.  It’s not like we have anywhere to be.”

 

“Who’s fault is that?”

 

“Mine, I guess.”

 

Scully suddenly slams on the brakes as something flies up and hits the windshield.  The back tires skid and the SUV slides off the highway into the mud.  The sound of the rain is deafening in the silence inside the car.  Scully is breathing hard and Mulder looks over at her as she drops her head to the steering wheel.

 

“Don’t fucking say it,” she breathes.  “Just don’t.”

 

He reaches over and puts his hand on the back of her neck and gives it a squeeze.  “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

 

Mulder leans over and puts the car in park and then twists the keys to shut off the engine.  Scully lifts her head and her eyes are wet.  He pulls her close and rests his forehead against her temple.  She sighs and tries to twist away from him, but he gently squeezes her neck and shakes his head.

 

“We need to stop,” he says.

 

“We can’t.”

 

“We have to.”

 

“Where can we go that we haven’t already been, Mulder?  Where?  This is our life now.  This...whatever this is.  Us and this stupid car and drive-thru burgers and just you and me.  Just you and me and the never ending road.”  Her voice breaks and she starts to cry.  He lets go of her to give her space, but she pulls him back and turns to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on.  He unhooks her seatbelt to hold her as tightly as he can, almost dragging her across the console to his lap.

 

“I can’t lose you again,” she says.  

 

“Then let’s get out of the car.”

 

Scully pulls away and wipes her eyes as she sits back in her seat.  She shakes her head and stares out the front window.

 

“There are safe houses,” Mulder says.  “Set up a long time ago by The Gunmen.  I don’t know if any of them are still...we can try.  We’ll be careful.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Nebraska.  Montana.  West Virginia.  Arizona.  Rural areas.  Off the grid.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

 

“And spoil our little road trip?”

 

Scully wipes her eyes again and frowns.  Mulder puts his hand on her cheek.

 

“I don’t know,” he says.  “I don’t know if it’s safe.  I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do.  I just know we can’t keep doing this.”

 

Scully settles in the driver’s seat and rests her arm on the console, turning her hand up and offering it to Mulder.  He sits back in his own seat and laces their fingers together.  The rain has not let up one bit.

 

“Not Arizona,” Scully says.  “Montana.”

 

“Big Sky Country.”

 

“As soon as the rain lets up.”

 

“No rush.”

 

She nods and squeezes his hand.

 

The End


	15. Packing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request for an I Want to Believe fic set before the boat trip

Mulder watches Scully tick off items on her checklist and sift through their suitcase.  She pulled her brows together for a moment and stuck her pen behind her ear so she’d have both hands free to dig through the perfectly folded and packed items.

 

“It’s the beach, Scully,” Mulder says.  “You’re going about this like we’re preparing for a survival mission.  All you need is a swimsuit, and quite honestly, maybe not even that.”

 

“Knowing you, Mulder, there’s no such thing as a relaxing trip to the beach.”  She makes another tick on her list and then closes the suitcase.  “Who knows what you actually have planned.”

 

“I swear in the name of all the places and positions I plan on taking you in this week, the only thing I have planned is getting you naked as often as possible.”

 

“Mmhm.”  She gives him a look that implies she’s both amused and not amused at the same time.  

 

Mulder moves closer to her and slips his hands over her hips and into the back pockets of her jeans.  Only three of his fingers fit, but it’s enough to pull her against him.  She leans away to drop her list and her pen on the bed next to the suitcase and then puts her hands on his chest.

 

“What kind of swimsuit did you bring?” he asks.

 

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

 

“You know, back in the day, I used to have this fantasy that involved you and a red bikini.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

He gives her ass a squeeze.  “I saw this movie once…”

 

“Stop right there.”  She rolls her eyes.

 

“Not  _ that _ kind of movie.  Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“I mean, if anyone could make coming out of a pool look as sexy as that, you could.”  He closes his eyes and tips his head back.

 

“Mulder!”  She slaps his chest with one hand.  “You better be imagining me and not Phoebe Cates right now.”

 

“Oh, I am, I am.”  He laughs as she slaps him in the chest again and takes one hand out of her pocket to cover hers.

 

“How did I ever end up with you and your dirty mind?”

 

“You sure appreciated my dirty mind the other night in the bathtub.”

 

“Mm.”  She gives him that look of amusement-not amusement again and wiggles her hips to be set free.  “Did you check us into our flight yet?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Better do that.”  She walks away from him and then pauses at the door and leans against the frame.  “Red was never really my color.”

 

“Blue?”

 

Scully raises one eyebrow and shrugs before she walks out.  Mulder waits a few moments and then lifts the top of the suitcase just a bit to peek inside.

 

“Stay outta there!” Scully calls from down the hall.

 

He pulls his hand away like a kid caught in the cookie jar and rushes out after her, visions of blue bikinis in mind.

 

The End


	16. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request for an expanded scene from this fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5377784 (Another Christmas Carol)

_ Mulder remembered the look on Scully’s face when he slipped into her hospital room to tell her that he’d just quit the FBI. She thought he was crazy when he said that halfway through the flight, he’d written a letter of resignation, handed it to Skinner as they deplaned in Denver to catch a connecting flight to Portland, and went to the nearest ticket counter to purchase a ticket to DC. If there was a spaceship in Oregon, let someone else be the one to find it.  He had a bad feeling about it all and he was done with bad feelings. After asking repeatedly if he was sure about it, she told him she was pregnant, and he knew he’d made the right decision. _

 

Mulder had a nagging feeling about returning to Bellefleur even before he boarded the plane. It had actually started when he'd told Scully he was leaving and she was going to stay.  He expected her to put up more of a protest than she had, but it was the look on her face that gave him the first sense of foreboding - like she didn't expect to see him again.  Either because of what he might find in Bellefleur or because something was actually wrong with her and she wasn’t telling him.

 

The nagging grew stronger with every passing minute.  It was a feeling not unlike the one he’d had in Marine Craddock bank that time, when he just knew something was off.  Something in the air told him that this wasn’t right.  He was not meant to go to Bellefleur, and if there was something there, it was not meant for him.

 

He looked to Skinner, across the aisle from him, and he knew if he didn’t hand in his resignation by the time they landed in Denver for their connecting flight, he was going to regret it.  He took a notepad from his carry-on and wrote several drafts, revising each one until the announcement was made that they were beginning their descent into Denver and to please put away all electronics and return your tray tables to the upright position.  In the end, he scrapped the long-winded explanations and insincere apologies and went with something short and simple.

 

To Whom it May Concern:

 

Effective immediately, I willfully tender my resignation and relieve myself of the position as Special Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and as senior investigator of the X-Files division.

 

Fox W. Mulder

 

As they got off the plane for the connecting flight, Mulder handed the paper to Skinner, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.  Skinner wordlessly read the letter and then removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He finally put his glasses back on, folded the letter and tucked it into his inside breast pocket, and then cleared his throat.

 

“My office on Monday, eight am sharp,” Skinner said.  “You can hand in your badge and your weapon then if you’re serious.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

Skinner nodded and turned away to head down the corridor to the connecting flight to Portland.  Mulder went the other way to the ticket counter to find a flight back to DC.  An hour later, back in the air, the foreboding feeling that had gripped him all afternoon began to dissipate.  Relief was short-lived, however, and only lasted until he stepped off the plane and turned on his phone.  Several messages awaited him, all from Frohike, letting him know they’d admitted Scully to Georgetown Medical after she’d passed out in the conference room after he and Skinner had left.

 

Mulder went straight to the hospital.  He was anxious, but so glad he hadn’t gotten as far as Oregon.  He realized he hadn’t even thought about what Skinner might find even once, so impatient was he to just get back to Scully and tell her what he’d done.  To continue the conversation they’d started in Bellefleur about what lay beyond the X-Files for her, for them.

 

When he slipped into her room, Scully had her face turned to the window, looking pensive.  She sat up quickly when she saw Mulder and the divit between her eyes deepened along with her frown.

 

“Mulder, what…?”

 

“Before you say anything, I have something I want to tell you,” he interrupted.  “I handed my resignation over to Skinner today as we landed in Denver.  I want to get out of the car, Scully.  I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know I don’t want this to be my life anymore.  Samantha is dead.  My mother, my father...and it just all seems like a waste.  Even if there are other answers to be found, I don’t want to be responsible for those truths anymore.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I don’t know.”  He laughed and shrugged.  “I don’t have another answer that doesn’t start and end with you.  Whatever it is I want you with me and that’s all I know.”

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“Very sure.”

 

“Really sure, Mulder.  It could change everything.”

 

“I hope it does.”

 

Scully reached for Mulder’s hand and gripped it tightly.  Her eyes grew watery with tears, but there was a smile on her face and she squeezed his hand.  She didn’t have to say anything, because he somehow just knew.  Just like he knew about the bomber in Marine Craddock and just like he knew he needed to get off that plane.

 

“Mulder, I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

 

Three little words that meant so much and he didn’t know how much he wanted until she said them.  He’d never been so glad about trusting his instincts as he was in that moment.

 

The End

  
  
  
  



	17. Her Struggle II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request for a continuation of this fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6096714 (Her Struggle)

Scully was tired of being responsible for the world.  She just wanted to go home.  Once the word got out on the vaccine, with Mulder and Einstein’s help, she felt like she could finally step back and let the world save itself.  It took nearly a week, but her work was essentially done.

 

What she wanted now, more than sleep, more than a hot bath, more than a relaxing glass of wine, was to see her son again.  It had nearly killed her to entrust William back in the hands of Monica so she could keep fighting the alien virus, but she did what she had to do - for the second time - and let him go.  Not to strangers this time, and not forever, just to her apartment where they would be safe and clear of Cancerman.

 

Mulder had went back to South Carolina to put a bullet in the old man’s brain, but of course the estate was empty.  No sign of the smoking bastard anywhere.  He returned with a renewed passion for fighting for the truth and a box that Monica had requested he search for if he was so hellbent on searching the place.  Once he saw what was inside, he closed it back up and took it home to wait for Scully.

 

They came to an agreement, of sorts, that they would let William decide who he wanted to live with.  If it was Monica, they would respect his wishes.  She had raised him, cared for him, loved him at the expense of her freedom for almost fourteen years.  There was a clear bond there, and Scully wouldn't be the one to break it.  

 

And what were Mulder and Scully going to do about each other?  The love they had was never going to go away.  It was still there, still palpable whenever they saw each other, but it was like a classic story of can't live with him, can't live without him.  What they needed to do was talk to each other.

 

Scully pulled up to the house a little after midnight.  A light was still on inside, but not in the office, in the bedroom.  She let herself in and shed her blazer and shoes at the door.  The stairs still creaked under her feet as she made her way up.

 

“Hey, Doc,” Mulder said, tipping his head down to look at her over the rim of his reading glasses when she walked through the bedroom door.  He had a newspaper folded in one hand, reading in bed just like she remembered him doing nearly every night.  His chest was bare and he was clean-shaved and she could smell the faint trace of his cologne and soap.  His hair was damp and spiky, like he'd only gotten out of the shower within the hour.

 

Exhausted, Scully pulled her blouse from her waistband and began working on the buttons from the top down.  Mulder's gaze lingered as each button was opened, but then he turned his head and shook the paper a little as he cleared his throat.

 

“They're talking about giving you a Nobel Prize,” he said.  “There was a four page spread in the Times yesterday.”

 

“I've been too busy to read anything,” she answered, truly caring very little about what people were saying.  She turned her back to Mulder as she shrugged off her shirt and went to the closet to hang it up.

 

Behind her, Mulder snorted softly.  “You know, I always had this secret thought that I'd know if you were a replicant sent to assassinate me if you dropped a sock on the floor,” he said.  “Aha, I would say, got you.  My Scully would never let an article of clothing touch the ground.”

 

In response, Scully let her unzipped slacks pool at her feet and she kicked them to the side.

 

“Damn,” Mulder whispered, and she heard the rustle of the newspaper as he tossed it to the floor.  “Make it painless?”

 

Scully picked her pants up and dusted them off before she folded them and hung them as well.  She didn't turn around again until after she'd unhooked her bra and left it folded on top of the dresser.  Mulder turned back the duvet on her side of the bed and she slid in beside him, her eyes closing almost immediately.

 

“I know you must be exhausted,” Mulder said, sliding down with her as she snuggled up against his side and rested her arm across his chest.

 

“I am,” she murmured, feeling sleep pull at her already.

 

“Can you stay awake just a little while longer?  There's something I think you need to see.  You don't even have to move.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Mulder eased away from her and got out of bed.  His bare feet slapped the wood floor and the stairs squeaked as he bounced down them.  Coming back up, he has a heavier, slower tread.  She felt a dip in the mattress by her legs and she struggled to open her eyes.

 

“Monica asked me to find this,” he said, opening the top of a box that looked like one of their old file storage boxes.

 

Scully sighed and pushed herself up to sit.  Mulder handed her his reading glasses before he pulled out an album and placed it in her lap.  She gasped slightly as she opened it and looked up at Mulder.

 

“I haven't looked at any of it yet,” he said.  “I was waiting for you.”

 

“It's…”

 

“There are four more photo albums here and DVDs,” he says.  “Labeled.  William 2nd birthday.  William playing piano.  William lost tooth.”

 

Scully looked up at the fan of small envelopes in Mulder's hand and she could see stacks of them still inside the box.

 

“It's his whole life,” she said.

 

“I know.”

 

“Everything we missed.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I don't know if I can look at this right now.”

 

“Monica's bringing him in the morning.  I think he's made his decision about where he wants to live.”

 

“I know we said that we'd let it be up to him, but…”  Scully pulls Mulder's glasses off her face and lowers her head.  “I don't know if I can give him up again.  You have no idea how hard…”

 

Mulder sat down as Scully trailed off and sat down next to her, facing her. “No, I don't,” he said.  “You wouldn't talk about it.”

 

A tear dropped from Scully's eye onto the plastic covered page of the photo album, blurring William's tiny face in a picture of him sitting in a high chair, smiling.  Another tear followed and then another until Mulder took the album, closed it, and put it back in the box, then moved the box to the floor.

 

“I think he'll choose you,” Mulder said, sitting in front of her again.

 

“Why?”

 

“You're his mother.”

 

Scully covered her face and shook her head.

 

“You are,” he said again.  “He's yours.”

 

“Ours,” she said, taking her hands away and wiping her eyes.  “He's ours.”

 

It was Mulder’s turn to drop his head and he nodded and swallowed.

 

“If he chooses us,” she said, “I want him to live here, not the city.”

 

“Here?”

 

“If you don’t want-”

 

“I want him back too, Scully.  I've always…”

 

“And regardless...I would...I would really like to come home,” she whispers.

 

“You don’t even have to ask.”

 

Scully sat silently with her head bowed.  Mulder took the glasses from her hand and tossed them carelessly onto the nightstand.  He crawled up beside her and put his arm around her.  She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

 

“I’m so tired,” she said.

 

Mulder reached over and turned off the lamp.  “Go to sleep,” he said, pulling her down with him.  “We’ll look at everything in the morning.”

 

Scully slept through sunrise, something she hadn’t done in awhile.  She slept through Mulder waking and sliding out of bed.  She slept through the coffee percolating and the toast burning.  Eventually, she did wake and rubbed her tired eyes.  The window was open a few inches, letting a cool breeze in.  She shivered and found a sweatshirt of Mulder’s to wear and slipped on a pair of his gym socks as well.  She still had a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and her toothbrush was still in the holder.  She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and pulled the flannel robe on for more warmth.

 

Downstairs, Mulder was in a pair of sweats in front of the TV, a mug of coffee on the table by his crossed ankles.  He sat up straight and put his feet down on the floor when Scully came down.  A stack of the DVDs from the box was piled next to him.

 

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait,” he said.  “I had to watch.”

 

She nodded in understanding and picked up his mug and took a sniff.

 

“No cream or sugar,” he said, rising and taking it from her hands.  “I’ll get you a mug.”  He sifted through the pile of DVDs and handed her one called William and the Elements - Age 6.  “You’ll like this one.”

 

Scully put the DVD in the player and then sat down and pressed play.  William’s face filled the screen, blurry for a moment, and then in sharp focus.  He grinned and flashed a missing upper tooth.  Offscreen, Monica’s voice could be heard.

 

“Okay, Will, go ahead.”

 

“Hydrogen,” William said.  “Helium, Lithium, Berylliam…”  And it went on until he had recited all the elements in order, without pause.

 

“Which one’s your favorite?” Monica asked when he was done.

 

“Aluminium!”

 

“Why?”

 

“It feels funny on my tongue.  Aluminum.”  He said it again, and again, moving his mouth faster each time until he was just making a noise and then he laughed and fell over on the bed he was sitting on.

 

“You’re a silly boy.”

 

“Do you know what my mommy’s favorite element is?”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“What about daddy?”

 

“If there was a Williuminium, I’m sure that would be their favorite.”

 

William shrieked with laughter and the video ended.  Scully smiled and got up from the couch to find Mulder in the kitchen.  She was about to slip her arms around him and rise up to kiss him, but they both turned at the sound of a car coming up the drive.

 

“That must be them,” Mulder said.  The coffee he was about to hand Scully got left on the counter.

 

Monica parked the car at an angle near the porch.  Mulder pushed the front door open just as William opened the passenger door.  Daggoo bolted from the car first, having spent the week in Monica and William’s care.  The dog barked and ran towards the bushes at the base of the porch.  He relieved himself and then dashed inside past Scully’s legs as she came out to the porch.

 

“Is this where we live?” William asked, squinting up at the house as Mulder met him at the base of the stairs.

 

“This is the house,” Mulder answered.

 

“Cool.  I brought a rocket.  You’ll help me build it, won’t you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I like that dog.  I never had a dog, I had fish.”

 

“Yeah?  Me too.”

 

“I taught him a trick.  I’ll show you later.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Hi, Mom.”

 

Scully paused on the stairs as she made her way down.  “William,” she said.

 

“I missed you guys,” he answered.  

 

“We missed you too,” Mulder said, glancing back at Scully and holding out his hand to her.

 

“Hey,” Monica said, coming up behind William and slipping her arms around his shoulders.  She had a level of comfort with the boy that Scully envied and could only hope for. 

 

“You find the place okay?” Mulder asked.

 

“Just fine.”  Monica patted William on the chest and looked at Scully.  “Dana, could we talk a minute.”

 

“Of course.  Come in.”  Scully let go of Mulder’s hand and went back up the porch steps with Monica right behind her.  

 

Dagoo had made himself at home on the couch, splayed out on his back with his paws in the air.  Scully tightened her robe a little and looked around the cluttered living room.

 

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Scully asked.

 

Monica smiled.  “Dana, you have nothing to worry about.  My part in this is over now.  He belongs with you.”

 

“What will you do now?”

 

“I’m not sure.”  Monica shrugged.  “I never really thought about what would come next, you know?  One day at a time.”

 

“I don’t even know how...I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

 

“I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

 

Scully bit her lip.  She didn’t feel the relief she expected to feel knowing that her son was back in her life to stay.  She was nervous about what came next.

 

“Dana,” Monica said, taking Scully’s hands.  “You’ll find this out for yourself soon enough, but William knows more than you think he does.  Knowledge just seems to come to him.  Not just that though, he will just  _ know _ things that you think he couldn’t possibly know.  Despite it, he approaches things with such innocence.  If there’s anyone in this world that truly believes in goodness, it’s William.  He’s...both older than you would think he is, and still much younger.  Do you understand?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“You’ll be fine.”  Monica gave Scully’s hands a squeeze and then let her go.  “I’m going to go say goodbye.”

 

“Monica.”  Scully stopped her before she walked out the door.  “John is in Texas.  Corpus Christi.”

 

“Texas?”

 

“He was a US Marshall for awhile, but he retired a few years back.  I’ll give you his number.”

 

“Yeah.  Do you think he’d remember me?”  Monica chuckled lightly as she looked outside.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Bye, Dana.”

 

“Keep in touch?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Scully waited a few minutes to follow Monica outside.  Mulder was up on the porch, his gaze focused off in the distance and not on William and Monica who were standing by the car, saying their goodbyes.  William wiped his eyes a few times and then gave Monica a hug.  She kissed his head and squeezed him tight and then let him go.  She said a few more words to him and he nodded.  She kissed his head again and then he backed away and put up his hand in a wave.  She got in the car and glanced up at Mulder and Scully before she drove off.

 

William finally turned when Monica’s car disappeared through the gate and he headed up to the porch.  Mulder opened his arm up to him and William walked up into his embrace.  Scully, knowing full well the healing power of being in Mulder’s arms, was grateful that William got to experience it for himself.

 

“Get in here, Scully,” Mulder said, pulling her into the hug from the other side so all three of them were wrapped up together.

 

“Will you teach me how to play basketball?”  William asked.  “Monica said you know how to play.”

 

“I’ll teach you any damn thing you want, kid,” Mulder said.

 

Scully chuckled and pressed her face to Mulder’s chest.  She was the happiest she’d been in fifteen years.

 

The End

  
  
  
  



	18. Things That Happen in the Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request for "Mulder and Scully make dinner together and mess it up."

“Scully, can I ask you a personal question?” Mulder asked.  He'd been twirling a pencil between his fingers and watching her type up a report on her computer for the better part of fifteen minutes, and she knew from experience that his silence wouldn't last long.

 

“No,” she answered, taking only a brief pause before she began typing again, trying to ignore his gaze, which she could feel boring holes into the back of her head.  Her neck tingled and she flicked her head back to shake the feeling away

 

“Can you cook?”

 

“Of course I can cook.”

 

“Why, ‘of course?’  I'm supposed to believe you can do everything perfectly?”

 

Scully smiled in spite of herself, but her back was to Mulder so she knew he wouldn't see her amusement.  “Seven years later, you've finally caught on.”

 

“You know what I've also learned in seven years, Scully?”

 

“What?”

 

“I need proof.”

 

Scully smiled again, but kept typing.  “What about you?”

 

“Does soup count?”

 

“Hardly.”

 

“Spaghetti?”

 

“Not quite.”

 

“I guess not.”

 

Scully nodded once and put her attention back into her report.  She'd lost her place in the moment she let her mind wander to engage in conversation with Mulder and she had to backtrack to find her train of thought again.

 

“So, what about Friday night?” Mulder asked.

 

“What about it?” she murmured, re-reading her last paragraph.

 

“You coming over and teaching me how to cook.”

 

Scully finally turned in her chair to face Mulder and he stopped twirling his pencil, though the grin on his face remained.  She lifted her brow as if to question his sanity.

 

“It'll be fun,” he said.  

 

“Basically, you just want me to feed you.  What do I get out of it?”

 

“You get to put your money where your mouth is.  Try to prove to me you know what you're doing.  I know how much you enjoy that.”

 

“I don't enjoy proving you wrong, it's just so easy to do.”

 

“I said  _ try _ , Scully.  I still contend you have yet to actually prove me wrong.”

 

Scully raised her brow again, definitely questioning his sanity this time.  She turned back around and put her hands on her keyboard, but didn't type.

 

“How's seven?” she asked.

 

“Works for me,” he answered, twirling his pencil again.  She could see him grinning in the reflection of her computer screen.

 

********

 

Scully wasn’t exactly sure what had been happening between her and Mulder lately, but something was different.  A good different, not a bad different.  Lighter.  There was more levity between them than there had been since the early days of their partnership.  He didn’t just call her about work lately, he called her to come out and play.  And she’d been enjoying every minute of it.

 

Even though Mulder had taken responsibility for picking up the groceries on the list she made, she didn’t want to show up at his door empty-handed, so she brought a bottle of wine with her.  Mulder opened the door for her about fifteen seconds after she knocked and she handed him the Merlot.

 

“1996, a very good year for reds,” Mulder said.

 

“Really?”

 

“I have no idea, it just sounded like something a sommelier might say.  Come in.  I got all the stuff on your list.”

 

Scully followed Mulder inside and put her purse on the table just beyond the door.  She had just seen him two hours ago at the office, but he looked freshly showered and shaved.  He’d also changed into a pair of jeans and a grey sweater.  His feet were bare.  She wondered how he’d managed to clean up so nicely and have time to go to the store.  She’d barely had time for a shower herself and she’d also changed into a casual pair of black jeans and a matching blue tank top and cardigan set.

 

“Do you want some now?” Mulder asked, holding up a corkscrew in one hand and the wine bottle in the other.  “Or with dinner.”

 

“With dinner,” she said.

 

He nodded and took the bottle and corkscrew out to the table.  He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater as he came back to the kitchen.  “Need an apron?” he asked, already opening a drawer beside the sink and pulling one out.

 

“I think I’ll be fine.”

 

“Well, I’m not going to tempt fate, especially when tomato sauce is involved.”  He unfolded a red apron and slipped it over his head.

 

Scully rolled her eyes.  She thought the Kiss the Cook aprons were mythical, but trust Mulder to have something so ridiculous.  She moved past him to wash her hands at the sink and he tossed her a dishrag from a hook near the stove before washing his own hands.

 

“Preheat the oven to 450,” she said, taking the lead.

 

“Easy enough.”

 

For the next twenty minutes, Scully got a lot of enjoyment out of ordering Mulder around, having him beat eggs and pound chicken.  One of the eggs was wasted when he completely shattered it trying to crack it open and there were too many bits of shell to salvage it, though they did spend a few minutes trying to pick them out of the bowl, to no avail.  It also turned out to be a very good thing he had the apron on, because just as he somewhat predicted, he managed to drop the jar of tomato sauce as he was pouring it, splattering it on himself and the stove.

 

“It’s a miracle they let you carry a loaded weapon,” Scully said, gingerly pulling the jar from the glass baking dish.

 

“I make up for it with my winning personality.”

 

Scully snorted on laughter.  While the chicken was baking, she put Mulder to work on a Caesar salad, while she put a pot of water to boil for spaghetti.  He shredded the lettuce without incident, but grating the parmesan resulted in a grated knuckle and a quick trip to the bathroom for a Band-Aid.

 

“Now you know why I stick with soup,” Mulder said, a sheepish smile on his face while she bandaged his finger.

 

“Somehow, I think you’d still manage to acquire second degree burns.”

 

“Not lately.”

 

“Why don’t you set the table then, and I’ll wash some of the dishes.”

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I enjoy a meal better when I know things are clean.”

 

“Why does that not surprise me?”

 

Mulder took his apron off and did as Scully asked, putting out plates and silverware on the table while she washed the dishes and utensils they used in preparation.  He finished before she did, and she felt him behind her as she soaped and scrubbed and rinsed.  She had just finished putting a plate on the rack to dry when Mulder said her name and then his hands were on her hips, turning her towards him.

 

The kiss came as a surprise, but it was not unwelcome.  Scully’s eyes opened wide in shock for a moment before slipping shut.  Her wet, soapy hands hovered next to Mulder’s shoulders, dripping water onto the floor and down her arms to her elbows.  She didn’t touch him, for fear of getting him wet, or just out of fear itself.  His kiss wasn’t a friendly New Year’s kiss, it was a kiss of someone who can’t  _ not _ kiss the person they’re kissing.  It was passionate, yet still gentle.  His hands were on her face and neck and in her hair, holding her in place as his body pressed hers against the edge of the counter.

 

After what could have been one minute or an hour, Scully had no sense of time, Mulder broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull away.  She could feel his chest heaving against hers and his breath on her face.  She opened her eyes after a few moments and then unconsciously licked her lips.

 

“Say something,” Mulder whispered.

 

Scully blinked and closed her slack mouth for a moment to swallow.  “I think the sauce is burning,” she said.

 

Mulder glanced at the stove.  He kept one hand on her neck as he leaned over and turned the burner off on the bubbling spaghetti sauce.  Scully’s hands still hovered ridiculously in the air and she lowered them to grip the edge of the counter.

 

“Was I out of line?” Mulder asked, holding Scully’s face again, but taking a step back to put a little distance between them.

 

Scully shook her head.  

 

“I should’ve said something sooner, but I’ve been trying to work up the nerve for months now and I just-”

 

“Shut up, Mulder,” she interrupted, putting her wet hands at the back of his head and bringing him back down for another kiss.

 

She would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t know something like this could happen tonight.  Honestly, it could’ve happened on any night in the past few months, but she knew when asked her to come to dinner that it was a date.  Just as she knew an invitation to the ballfield after hours was a date.  Come over for a beer and a movie, Scully, I’ll even leave the butter off the popcorn for you, was a date.  All that tiptoeing around was eventually leading to this very moment, with her pressed against the counter, their whimpers and soft groans spurring the both of them on.

 

The timer on the oven buzzed loudly and Mulder jerked his head back, startled.  Scully put the back of her cool hand to her forehead and tried to catch her breath.  They began to laugh and Mulder switched off the oven and the boiling water on the stove.  Surely the spaghetti was done by now.

 

“I guess I should admit you’ve finally proved me wrong,” Mulder said, taking a shy glance at her as he opened the oven to check the chicken.

 

“You did most of the work though.”

 

“Don’t I always?”  He grinned cheekily.

 

“Don’t press your luck, Mulder.”

 

“Or else?”

 

She shrugged.  “No dessert.”

 

“I don’t have dessert.”

 

Scully raised her brow in that patented, Mulder you’re crazy, expression and moved up on her toes as she stretched her neck to whisper in his ear.  “I’m the dessert,” she said, smiling as he groaned in response.

 

The End


	19. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request for Scully taking Mulder to her high school reunion (in a nutshell).

From time to time, mail still arrived at the house for Scully.  Technically, it arrived at the PO Box Mulder maintained where they used to collect their mail, but it had been his alone for two years.  At first, he used the trickle of mail that came through to call her, knowing full well it was mostly junk she’d never want, but it was the only legitimate excuse he had for awhile.  It had been quite awhile since her name showed up in his PO Box, but he didn’t need excuses anymore since he saw her nearly every day at work.

 

He brought her the Alumni Newsletter she received with a cup of coffee.  She thanked him for both, took a sip of the coffee, and then through the newsletter in the trash after a mere glance.

 

“You're not going to read it?” Mulder asked, retrieving the sealed booklet from the trash can.

 

“A high school newsletter?  I don't think I've ever read one.”

 

“Hm.”  Mulder ripped the circle of tape holding the pages together and opened it up.  “Rosalee O’Brien hyphen Bingham, senior class president, announces the 35th reunion for the graduates of the class-”

 

“I know what year I graduated,” she said, reaching across his desk to take the newsletter back.  “No need to remind me.”

 

“You don't want to go?  It's in…” Mulder paused and held the newsletter up and away from Scully's searching fingers.  “June.”

 

“We don't know where we'll be in June.  A case could come up.”

 

“Never heard of personal time?”

 

Unable to grab the newsletter, Scully crossed her arms.  “Mulder, you wouldn't know personal time if it walked through the door and bit you on the ass.”

 

“Well, things change.”  He gave her the newsletter which she folded and put in her briefcase.

 

Scully sat down with her coffee in front of Mulder's desk.  “What's on the agenda today?”

 

“I think we should go.”

 

“We?”

 

“We haven't been to a reunion since Kroner, Kansas.”

 

“You say that like it's the same as going to a movie.”

 

“What kind of movie?”

 

Scully rolled her eyes a little and reached over to take the file off Mulder's desk since he didn't seem to want to share it with her.  The conversation about the reunion fell by the wayside as he finally started presenting her with the known and unknown information on their new case.

 

Two months later, Scully was packing up her briefcase for the night when Mulder swiveled in his seat and leaned back to look at her.

 

“What time should I pick you up?” he asked.

 

“For?”

 

“The reunion’s tomorrow.”

 

“The what?”

 

“Your high school reunion.”

 

“How in the hell did you even remember that?”

 

“It's been on my calendar for weeks.  You didn't mark it down?”

 

Scully snapped her briefcase shut and gave him the eyebrow.  “I never RSVPed,” she said.  

 

“Sure you did.”

 

“Mulder…”

 

“Did you know that Rosalee O’Brien hyphen Bingham is married to a dentist?  Two kids, Paul Jr. and Mary Katherine, after her mother, but they call her Kate.  Paul Jr. just joined the practice with his dad and Kate's finding herself in Europe.  Nice lady.  Can't wait to see you.”

 

Scully dropped into the chair across from Mulder's desk and glared at him.  “I can't believe you would...you would just…”

 

“It'll be fun.”

 

“I highly doubt that.”

 

Mulder pursed his lips and then sat up straight and smoothed his tie down his chest.  “Remember back when we were on the road and we used to...talk?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You said once that you thought it was so strange to look back at your life and know that anyone who ever knew you before you went on the run with me was never going to know you again.”

 

“And you thought that meant I wanted to then go to my high school reunion ten years later?”

 

Mulder looked down at his desk and gave a small shrug.  “I can call Rosalee and tell her something came up.”

 

“No,” Scully said, quickly.  “No, don't do that.”

 

“But, you don't want to go.”

 

“No.  No, I would rather stay home and think about ways to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

 

Mulder grimaced.  “I thought you liked high school.”

 

“I did.  For the most part.”

 

“So why don't you want to go?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

They had reached a stalemate of sorts.  Mulder knew when not to pry, and Scully really couldn't offer more of an explanation.  

 

“What time is this happening and where?” Scully asked.

 

“Downtown Baltimore, 7 o’ clock.”

 

“And you really want to go to this?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It's not often I get to meet people who knew you before you were my Scully,” he said, and then quickly added, “the Scully I know.”

 

Scully licked the sloped her upper lip and looked away from Mulder.  “Alright,” she said, standing and picking up her briefcase.  “Pick me up at 6:30.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Their first exchange with a former classmate, Tracy Llewllyn nee Parker, was a shining example of what Scully couldn’t explain to Mulder as a reason for not wanting to attend her reunion.  Tracy was manning the nametags outside the door of the hotel ballroom the reunion was being held in.  Scully tried to dredge up some sort of memory of the woman, but her mind was a blank.

 

“Dana Scully,” Tracy said, handing her a badge with Scully’s name and a smaller, black and white version of her senior photo underneath.  “I remember you.”

 

“You do?” Scully asked.

 

“We had chemistry together.  Andy Teller almost got expelled for cheating off your mid-term.”

 

That was not a memory Scully was particularly fond of, especially when she’d had to reject Andy’s claim that she’d allowed him to copy from her paper.  She forced a weak smile as she affixed her nametag to her blazer.

 

“You must be Dana’s husband,” Tracy said to Mulder, handing him a blank tag and a Sharpie.  “Just write your name down there.”

 

“He’s my partner,” Scully clarified.

 

“Oh, of course you’d be one of those modern girls,” Tracy said with a laugh.  “It’s a wonder you even got married.  I don’t think anyone would’ve expected that of you.”

 

“Why is that?” Scully asked, barely keeping the annoyance out of her voice.

 

“You were always so  _ independent _ ,” Tracy answered, somewhat hushed, as though it was a secret.  “So what do you do now?”

 

“Scully’s a surgeon,” Mulder interjected, dropping the Sharpie back on the table in front of Tracy.

 

“A surgeon!”

 

“Well,” Scully said.  “Actually-”

 

“Did you just call her Scully?” Tracy asked.

 

“Force of habit,” Mulder answered, taking a moment to affix his name badge.  “We work together.”

 

“Oh, are you a surgeon as well...Mulder?”

 

“FBI.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I’m a forensic pathologist,” Scully said.  “For the FBI.”

 

“You still work now that you’re married?”

 

“You know,” Mulder said, putting his arm around Scully’s waist.  “Nice meeting you Tracy, but I think there’s a few people who just walked in the door that need nametags and we don’t want to keep you from it.”

 

Scully had felt the anger rising in her chest, bringing heat to her cheeks.  If Mulder hadn’t pulled her away when he did, Tracy was about to be on the bad end of a verbal lashing.  She didn’t have to remember the woman specifically to know she was probably going to encounter a lot of women like her in that ballroom.  She’d gone to school with a lot of girls whose singular ambition was to find a Catholic husband, get married in the church, and produce a lot of Catholic babies.  That wasn’t on Scully’s agenda, and it probably wouldn’t have been so strange if she’d been in high school today, but of the eighty or some odd kids she graduated with, she knew only a small percentage of them even went on to college, male or female.

 

“Why did you tell Tracy I was a surgeon?” Scully asked Mulder as they entered the ballroom.

 

“You are,” he said.

 

“Not anymore.  And I wasn’t ever really...I mean, I have performed surgeries, but…”

 

“What do you want to be tonight, then?  Doctor?  Special Agent?  Nuclear physicist?  Oh, I bet you could pass for some kind of lawyer if you wanted to.”

 

“FBI is fine.  And why did you let Tracy think you were my husband?”

 

“You’re the one that did that.”

 

“No, I didn’t, I told her you were my partner.”

 

“Scully, it’s synonymous to a lady like her.”

 

Scully sighed.

 

The ballroom was tastefully decorated with round tables with white linen tablecloths.  A buffet was on one side of the room and a DJ was at the head, playing music that was popular in her senior year that he’d probably had to Google because he barely looked old enough to drink.  The current choice was Pete Townshend’s Let My Love Open the Door and a handful of people were dancing in the center floor.

 

“Unbelievable,” Scully murmured.

 

“What?” Mulder asked.

 

Scully nodded slightly to the left.  “The woman at that table was my junior year trigonometry teacher.”

 

“That woman has to be a hundred years old,” he whispered back to Scully.  “Are you sure?”

 

“She looks exactly the same, even without the wimple and habit.”

 

“Your trig teacher was a hundred year old nun?”

 

“Shhh…”  Scully chuckled slightly and gave Mulder a mild backwards slap on the shoulder with her knuckles.

 

“Recognize anyone else?”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“I’m dying to know what Dana Scully’s high school crush looks like now, so be sure to point him out when you see him.”

 

“My high school crush didn’t go to my school.  He went to Missy’s.”

 

“You and Melissa didn’t go to the same school?”

 

“Missy refused to go to Catholic school past eighth grade.  She told our parents if they sent her anywhere but public school, she’d not only find a way to get expelled, she’d get excommunicated.”

 

Mulder laughed and Scully smiled at the memory of her sister threatening their parents with enough vehemence that instead of punishment, she actually got what she wanted.  Bill had been so annoyed that their sister wasn’t obeying the natural law of things, but Bill’s rigidity meant he was always annoyed at something.

 

Scully wandered the room with Mulder at her side.  In one corner someone had set up a table with a yearbook, a posterboard of old photos and a few class papers to peruse.  Mulder went for the newspaper while Scully inspected the photos.  Seeing the faces of her classmates jogged her memory a bit and she was able to pick out a few by name.

 

“Looks like your basketball team wasn’t all that bad,” Mulder said.

 

“Don’t remember.  Don’t think I ever went to a game, actually.”

 

“Chicken fingers will no longer be available in the cafeteria on Tuesdays, only Thursdays.  Harsh.”

 

“But, always fish sticks on Fridays.”

 

“Hey, Scully, you’re in here.”  Mulder opened the paper for her and she leaned closer.  “Senior debate team wins city finals.  There’s a picture.”

 

“That’s as far as we got.  We lost in regionals.”

 

“Bummer.  Left to right, Lisa Cunningham, Michael Smith, Dana Scully, Holly Campbell, and Rick Flanagan.”

 

“I wonder if Lisa will be here.  I’d be curious to know what she’s been up to.”

 

“No love for the other three?”

 

“Lisa was the most ambitious.”

 

“Not you?”

 

“Next to me.”  She smiled at him and he closed the paper.

 

They picked up some hors d'oeuvres from the buffet and sat down at an empty table for awhile.  A few people came up to chat, but it was clear they really didn’t know each other aside from a few shared teachers they could remember.  Mulder did finally get to meet Rosalee and her husband Paul, and they chatted like old friends for a bit, but Rosalee couldn’t sit down, she had people to greet.

 

At some point, the lights in the room dimmed just a little and more people began to gather at the dance floor.  Scully began to wonder when she might be able to convince Mulder it was time to leave when he suddenly stood up and offered her his hand.  She looked up at him, puzzled.

 

“Dance with me,” he said.

 

“Now?”

 

“No, at your fortieth reunion.  Come on, Scully.  Get up and dance with me.”

 

Scully took Mulder’s hand and he led her towards the dance floor.  Endless Love was playing.  She shook her head a little at him as he folded his hand over hers and put his other one at her hip.  She rested her arm over his so that her other hand lay on the back of his shoulder and they swayed casually, but she felt a little ridiculous.  He was dancing with her like they were in junior high and had never danced before.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

 

“Leaving room for the holy ghost.”

 

Scully chuckled and stepped closer to him.  He immediately wrapped his arm around her and pulled her up to his chest.  Their joined hands came to rest near her chin.  It was both familiar and comfortable.

 

“It’s been awhile since you’ve danced with me,” Mulder said.

 

“It’s been awhile since you’ve asked.”

 

“Maybe I thought you’d turn me down.”

 

Scully didn’t respond, and for a few moments, she just closed her eyes and swayed with him.  He let go of her hand and brought his other arm down around her waist, crossing his wrists at the small of her back.  She hooked her arms under his and splayed her hands against the back of his shoulders.  He nuzzled her hair and she ran her hands up and down his back, but suddenly his posture changed a little and she looked up at him.

 

“Three o’clock,” Mulder said, without even looking at her.  “I think that’s...I think that’s Rick, from your debate team.”

 

Scully glanced over to where Mulder indicated and her brows lifted into tiny peaks.  “I think you’re right,” she said.

 

“Want to say hello?”

 

“I do, actually.”

 

Mulder loosened his hold on her and Scully backed out of his embrace, but she took his hand and led him from the dance floor.  Rick stood off to the side sipping punch.  He looked like he was trying to remain inconspicuous, but with his clergy collar, he stood out.

 

“Rick Flanagan?” Scully asked.  “Or, should I say, Father Flanagan?”

 

Rick smiled and lowered the plastic cup in his hand.  “Dana Scully,” he said.  “What would you like to argue about today?”

 

Scully returned his smile and Mulder chuckled.

 

“This is my...this is Mulder,” Scully said.  

 

Mulder and Rick shook hands.

 

“You don’t have to guess what I’ve gone on to do with my life,” Rick said.  “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

 

“FBI,” Scully said.

 

“Ah, I would’ve guessed lawyer.  Never met anyone who loved an argument as much as you.”

 

“That hasn’t changed,” Mulder said.

 

“Don’t think I won’t shoot you in front of a priest, Mulder.”

 

“She’s just kidding, she left her weapon at home.”

 

“How’s your mother, Dana?”  Rick asked.  “I just remembered those days we would study at your house and your mom would put out the most delicious cookies I’d ever had.”

 

Scully hesitated a moment.  “She passed a few months ago, I’m afraid.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.  I’ll say a prayer for her soul.”

 

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

 

They talked for a few more minutes and then Mulder excused himself to use the restroom.  A few minutes after that, Scully excused herself as well and went to wait for Mulder in the lobby.  When he came back, she took his hand and steered him to the door.

 

“We’re leaving?” he asked.

 

“I only have so much social engagement in me,” she said.  “Let’s walk for a bit though, before we get the car.  It’s a nice night.”

 

“Sure.”

 

They walked hand in hand down the Baltimore streets.  Scully pointed a few places out to Mulder that she used to frequent in high school, or where those places used to be.  They circled back after awhile and Mulder gave the ticket to the valet to get their car.  As they waited, Scully put her arms around Mulder and rested her chin on his chest.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“For what?” he asked.

 

“Making me come.”.

 

A mischievous grin spread across his face.  “No need to thank me,” he said.  “I always loved making yo-”

 

Scully reached up and put a hand over his mouth before he could finish the thought.  She shook her head at him and fought a smile.  He kissed the center of her palm and she took her hand away.

 

“It was actually really nice just to be out with you,” she said.

 

“We could do it more often, you know.”

 

“I’d like that, Mulder.  I’d like it a lot.”

 

“I would too.”

 

Scully smiled and then turned her head and rested her cheek against his chest as they waited for the car.

 

The End

  
  



End file.
